At first I see an open wound 
infected and disastrous 
It breathes chaotic catastrophe 
it cries to be renewed 
Its tears are the color of anger, 
they dry to form a scab 
To the touch, its stiff and resilient, 
underneath, the new skin breathes 
As outwardly cliche as it may seem, 
yes, something under the surface says, 
"C'est la vie" 
It is a circle, there is a plan 
dead skin will atrophy itself to start again 
Look closely at the open wound 
see past what covers the surface 
Underneath chaotic catastrophe, 
creation takes stage. 
Its all been saved 
with exception for the right parts 
When will we be new skin? 
Its all been seen with exception for what could be 
When will we be new skin? 
Fallacious cognitions 
spewed from televisions 
do mold our decisions. 
So stop and take a look, 
and you'll see what I see now