hope is the collagen in my skin

hope is the collagen in my skin

my mouth, mouths back,

in tandem with my inflection

above a shelf of potions.

The alchemy and each bottles

for its tint:

Cream and covers

without stint.

Nevertheless, from pale to blotch,

fated my skin;

Nevertheless, from fairest to fail,

fated my skin.

I scratch and claw

at the curse of my kin,

skin that peels, and rips,

with time, bleeds, and drips.

But pristine, the immortal gazes back

with the skin of no lack.

Invisible is my operation;

Visible is his domination.

Trapped by either abundance or scarce,

my prison assured

fated to elsewhere

destined to there.

Yes, hope is our lot,

on the lurk, and assert it will not.

A friend or foe?

I do not know.

I do know that collagen is in my skin.