Sometimes I'm the Earth.

I have a thin

Yet impenetribaly dense 

Crust all around me. 

Nobody is allowed to go in. 

Nobody. 

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

And people

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?