The Diamond.

Diamonds are rough, but so is your soul. Put you under pressure, watch your life unfold. I’m the miner, you’re the prize; a worthless, cracked piece of jewel.

I know you’re expensive, but there’s nothing special about flash. Wealth and greed encompass your soul, a hidden black hole. A pile of unfathomable dust, you can’t be polished, looking like trash. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t match. I’m a princess, you, marquise; shapes so different, yet clearly unseen.

Absence of color, yet your beauty fails, color is color—mine prevails.

I cut you, my diamond, into a valueless piece of ruthless stone. I am the cutter, you are the pressured jewel. Manipulating you, didn’t you know? I determine your quality, I determine your craft. You’re in my hands, and you didn’t last.

Full of blemishes, broken, unused. Can’t be covered, clarity will never be yours. Magnify yourself, and you’ll see.

You’ll never be anything without me.

I am your miner, I am your cutter, I am you, but you aren’t me.