Unfinished Rooms

We build excuses
when our reasons no longer comfort us—
thin shelters stitched from fear
skins stretched over truths
we cannot bear to touch 

They are the armor we wear
when our weaknesses feel too loud
They shine like strength
until someone looks closely
and sees the seams 

They are the masks we lift
when our shortcomings ache
They mimic completeness
a polished façade
over unfinished rooms 

We are imperfect creatures
forever patching the cracks
forever painting over the places
where the truth shows through 

And everyone you meet today
is carrying their own fractures—
some hidden
some healing
some still learning
how to stop pretending 

We are all
trying to navigate
our own unfinished rooms 

© Ron Simpson Jr. 

August 29, 2026