These ridges I fear
The ones outside made to cover the ones within
The darkness between each crevice, the nights of lone coldness
The way I feel,
The way I rub others.
The feeling they get, how others do
I do not know their intentions as these scales flake away
Succumbed by pressure of my own doing yet the pressure I seek from others
The attention I bring. I need. The way it darkens those holes and those spikes grow a little bigger
Just until I burst or until I’m left alone like one of those inflated fish
Scolded by my own doing
I know what has been done
Yet the eyes are focused outside
Pine Cone by Matthew is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.