All Over You

All people have it

talent or beauty

beneath all the tragic.

 

Most, need to prune it.

Such vague, tiny fortunes.

 

Not all, how exuding...you!

Unable to breathe in proper form

and every pore,

tortured.

Its suffocating presence.

 

Eluded to the silent corners.

Fashioned in locks,

without combination.

 

Afraid to reveal

omnipotence.

 Tragically surreal.