A skin-colored bandage covers the rot,
the festering past, all the things that you’re not.
When no one’s around, you pull back the cloth
and pick at the flesh ’til your mouth starts to froth.
Today, we must show up to prove we’re the best;
there’s no room for failure and no time for rest.
You scoop up your medals, then go home and cry;
the sadness within, trophies can’t mollify.
You sit by the sink and stare yourself down,
“You screwed up, I hate you, and how dare you frown!”
In life, we must learn to reach out to friends,
and say, “Here, I’m bleeding. Will you help me mend?”
I know that it’s hard to ask for such aid,
but I promise you now, true friends won’t be dismayed.
In fact, they’ll be grateful that you trust their heart;
your deepest of secrets will soon fall apart.
So, rip off that band-aid and bring pains to light;
the companionships borne are your human right.