Poetry (words)

Our guts can’t be reworked. 

Trying to be someone else is hard. Trying to be someone else for someone else is impossible. 

In the words of FOB “our guts can’t be reworked” 

We can change the outside, but what’s inside remains. Holding back isn’t changing, it’s just the abridged version of ourselves. 

We’re all set by default. Even in saying what we mean do we rarely say exactly what we mean. 

Tact is important, but it’s just face value. Scratch the surface of that thin veneer and you’ll see a closer example of reality. 

Why do we hide or fears, our feelings? What’s so awful about honesty? Making an impression seems to be too important, and being  ourselves is just put aside. 


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