Sometimes I'm the Earth.
I have a thin
Yet impenetribaly dense
Crust all around me.
Nobody is allowed to go in.
Unless they want to burn to death with me.
And today it became thicker
Adding yet another layer to this thin crust
Barely containing thos two other thin layers
Because I still have not yet cooled off
Nor will I ever.
On this crust is a confusing cluster
Of many ideas
And of places
Who walk andd imprint and destroy all around
What may at once been perfect
With nobody to appreciate the view.
So as the crust grows thicker,
While my insides cool off,
I can't help but wonder:
What am I taken as?