Fruition

My skin
Limits what
People can see
From me
As the blank
Canvas of my
Mind
Produces a landscape
Of pain
As the skyline
Bleeds
Black
Blue and
Red
As the building blocks
In my soul
Rarely
Stand erect
Fresh designs
Start off good
But often fade
Into nothing
Becoming stale
As fear and
Intrepidation
Outlines
What I am facing
Unconventional
Methods
Rarely gets approval
As my thoughts
Never make it through
The approval process
My words always
Have to resubmitted
Redesigned
Cause my thoughts
Are unconventional
At best
As an object at rest
Stays at rest
Unless a greater force
Enacts upon it
So I admit
It comes as no
Surprise when the
Inspector says
Change it
Cause no one wants
To see the designs
In my mind
Come to fruition