Daily writing prompt

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

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Beneath this, all there is, is me
Not what I planned, or hoped to be
Fraught emotions, unprotected
No facade to be dissected.

Would that you’d find some more variety
Than nails bit’ short and brash anxiety
But split my skin down to the core
And you’ll find me – nothing more.

No inner genius undiscovered
With master works as yet uncovered
Nor searing insights running rife
Or long-sought answers about life

These farmer’s hands, a broken toe
Scar-tracked arms, brow too low
Too-red face, too white skin
Speak too clear of what’s within

A needy heart, an ego bruised
A capable brain, slightly used
A worried mind, so insecure
Tending slightly too impure

So as you drop your surgeon’s knife
Amongst the tendons of my life
And grab my hand, still resting free
Know what you hold is, simply, me.

Bryson Thomas