A clear surface, nicely polished. So normal, so perfect. One to adore, one to impress.
Till the cracks start showing up. Something creeps up from the surface. A nasty substance, so it seems. Destroying the smoothness, abolishing the perfectness. The truth has come out.
It’s easy to hide, just stand where everyone is looking.
The cracks are the truth.
The cracks are the beauty.