Under the skin there is fatty layer
For all our trouble Iet’s make a prayer
So many memories locked in the cells
Healing our egos with translucent gels

Too many sunburns in my youth
The surgeon tells me – Is it the truth
Time wasted getting tanned on the beach
Skinned to the bone soft like a peach

Chills down my spine from the sterile bed
For anesthetic potions I am now glad
Soothing music from the stereo player
Cuts through the skin to the deeper layer

Sharp move of the little steel knife
Clenching my jaws holding for life
Released my fears into white pillow
Chopped piece of me weighed like a kilo

The leftover me