pockmarked terrain

I am a landscape pockmarked by nuclear bombs  
a ready recipient for what love has to offer  
a mask of indifference for concrete  
an invitation for those who would know unrequitement,  
who long for a difficult path.  

I am one opportunity presented by Earth,  
the manifestation of a singular way,  
through all terrains, then no terrains,  
then nowhere to go  
 
I am circles over again - happily.  
I embarrass myself on the public eye with my naivete  
so you don't have to.  
 
I am a roadmap of pain and growth  
I am heavily pockmarked terrain  
a ready recipient for bombs that fall;  
any body is welcome to drop one.  
 
I am a mechanism to metabolize  
whatever is fed into me  
sleepless days while it churns in my brain  
spat out unexpectedly in the morning.  
 
I am obliteration of yesterdays  
I am no reliable recommendations  
No direction, no direct answer  
to your weighty, useless questions.  
I am rearrangement.  
I have finally passed on the bomb placed into me