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