There are cracks

beneath the manicured surface that

we all show beautifully

as shiny and perfect,

strong and immune.


But those cracks

grow ever wider

with each new stress

and all the pretence

that is needed to

maintain the painted front

of what we present

to the expectant world.


Till the day that

the cracks gape

open like a wound

and reveal woefully

the depth and

the chasm of

dreadful despair

that was always there

beneath this perfect life

that needed no repair.