Through and through,
It was solid,
You were certain,
Until things were revealed,
When up went the curtain.

Turns out underneath was tarnished,
And the gold was only varnish,
A coating so thin,
It could be cracked,
By just the prick of a pin.

Well it’s dreadfully degrading,
To an object’s rating,
When the cracked paint is peeling,
Being stripped away,
From floor to ceiling.

Ripped from it,
Faster and faster,
No stopping once it’s started,
Leaving it and all associated,
So very broken-hearted.

It’s been stripped bare,
There’s none left now,
But a stubborn speck,
Here or there.

Solid gold,
Was a facade,
A cover-up,
For something majorly flawed.