Trained to detect imperfections, And fix blemishes 'til there's none. To remove any problems found, So then the surface, smooth, they're gone. Striving for the vision of beauty, With everything that I could see. Scrambling to deliver... where do I start? Forgetting to pour into the cup that is me. Forced to finally lift the curtain, No longer focusing on the skin. Searching gently for weeping wounds, Operating on the soul that lies within. Now, post-op, I'm healing, Choosing each next step with care. Desperate to make each moment count, As a canvas again I'm bare.