Porcelain

It's funny how the most beautiful things are the most

susceptible to break;

A hollow shell boasts polished exterior

painted with intricacies

perfected by the rituals of daily life

all products of a cosmetic revolution

designed to buff and polish and conceal

what cannot be wished away

But under the same incandescent light

we are all yellow

and tired

and frail;

Held together by our aspirations that one day

after the most extravagant metamorphose

we will finally be released from the glue of insecurity

and so that we may fall apart

to rebuild once again

so that we are not quite so hollow

and perhaps everything will ok

Because the truth is

eventually

our porcelain exteriors will shatter and break

or become dull alongside the processes of age

And one may see through the porcelain walls we built

to conceal the brittle entity that is human nature

riddled with its imperfections

which no cosmetic blanket can hide

And

eventually

once all our exteriors have fallen

into dusty porcelain pieces at our feet

we will realize that we are the same

asymmetric and unpredictable

yet beautiful and strong

and  filled with the humanity we suppressed

which made us weak