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.

Rain's Light.

The light masked by pellets of rain, yet it shines right through. Glistening, pouring, the vibrancy of power and collision. Wind flustering, shaking leaves, like the shaken emotions inside me. The sky grows dark, rain prevails. Slower, harder, a demonic grace.

The beat of a heart, echoing rain in a chimney. There, barely noticeable, but still. A constant drum. Peaceful to some, but not to me. Rain falls harder, feelings get stronger, peace can’t find me.

Like the sun through rain, it’s there but masked. Shit happens, but shouldn’t last. The rain will subside, yet emotions dwell, masked still by the feeling of hell.

The Thunder.

There’s the sound of thunder, but it’s in your eyes. Close them and you’ll hear it. Stuck in your head and inside your soul, it rumbles, like rocks on metal. So loud, deceiving, reflective of your fears. But fear doesn’t rest in thunder; it rests in all those tears. Lightning strikes through the rain, pouring, like blankets in the sky. It strikes your heart; you’re left to die. In the pouring rain and thunder.

The Song.

Cut me, drug me, poison me with the love of lyrics, finding me in a shadow of undeniable depth only you can see. Tunneled and struggling, but pursuing a hope of fight, flight, and strength.

The valley is narrow, but the light is bright. It’s far away, but keep walking and it will come to me. Harmony and passion for the music you love give hope to keep my head above. You are who holds my breath.

Sing to me because I’m there. Sing through me because you care.

The weight of the world has nothing to do with this; you find a way. Bringing me back with that voice of melody, harmony, sing for me.

Stolen Heart.

Peaceful river, calming seas. The envy of strength, the envy of freedom, the envy of pure happiness. Caging myself, I know I must go. Unlock the door that’s been bolted for so long, open up my heart again. Show me what’s true, what’s right, what’s imaginable.

To be at peace. To genuinely smile. To be happy.

Prickles underneath skin, like rats scurrying through disposes, that cover my body, be gone. Let go of me. I’m no longer your prisoner, or shouldn’t be. I am stronger than you, I am bigger than you, I can overcome you. You are darkness. I am light, I have the light, just masked. Scurry back to your shadow, scurry back to your grounds, leave my heart alone. Give it back to me.

I lost it long ago, in the elevated mountains. The wide range, the beauty of snow, us standing above nine clouds. Lost in the sky, embraced by its beauty, you stole me and then brought me back down. Inspired by the beauty, yet I cannot climb back myself. I need you here with me. No, I don’t.

Give me my heart back. Leave it as it once was.

Destroyed, broken, confused. Crushed, lost, bleeding.

Throw me in a river, toss me in the sea. An ocean, a lake, the water can see me. Seep through my veins, detoxify my love, creating peace. Calm. Calm, my child. The day will come and you will know silence.

The Birds.

Birds of a feather flock together, but what if there’s only one? Stuck in the wind, too much or too little, despair, yet hope, belittle. The bird flies alone, alone in his gusts. The freedom of air, the sky, and sunshine, remain barred behind panels of glass and metal, trapping me inside. Melting, floating, the sorrow of tomorrow.

Floating then, flying free, the birds move on, migrate without me. A broken wing distresses the heart, knowing the aspiration of flying has to start. Or part.

But what if it happens to me?

Wing fixed, heart remains. Distressed, lifelessness.

Not good enough to fly, but are you?

Fly with me, save me from myself. The heart of the bird is rough, bearing buildings. Walls and halls, ceilings and attics. Cemeteries, ashes, he dies.

Stuck in a shade of silver, flying alone in thought, no freedom. Not okay, but fine to sight. First to bear the relentless winds of the Northern sky, the heat of the Southern. The cold of the future, or the warmth of death.

Floating alone, finding a way. Outside looking in, wanting escape. Never going to make it home.

Circles and dots, spirals and knots. Taunting, pressure, breaking me.

Breaking and broken, breaking free. Whispers fight, raging reassuringly, saying pain, pain, pain. Veins bulging, releasing red love. Love of hatred, love of what’s right. You don’t know what’s right. Frustrated, failing, falling again. Broken.

Trying to fly, but they migrate without me.

The Box.

Finding a place of undeniable, so desirable, intrigue. Lost in a moment of accidental accompany, the company of a territory felt and understood by so few. A company of discrimination, even when it doesn’t deserve it.

Shaking. A relentless twitch. Intricacy.

Desired because of it’s complexity. That uncharted territory. A territory of brokenness, yet positivity, all in the shadow of self-doubt and misunderstandings.

What do you want?

What feels right?

It runs through the mind. What is expected has nothing to do with want. It isn’t lust, entirely. Neither entirely of the mind, body, heart, or self, yet a combination of all. It’s something that’s eager to reveal itself. Something so creative, so intriguing, inspiring.

What are you inspired by?

Think outside of the box. It’s hard, I know. When you’re so leveled in routine and comfort, it seems impossible. Don’t go for a flower in a tree, go for a tornado. Get inspired by something, anything.

Listen to something new, not that same old station.
One inspiration can reveal so much.

Those who are limitless find the most in their lives, fulfilling aspirations, taking risks. No being comfortable. No settling. Doing them, only them, realizing what’s most important. It’s a decision of self.

Are you going to be comfortable, or are you going to explore?

Explore those uncharted territories.
The inspirations.
Intricate people, intricate places.
Beyond the box.

It can reveal so much, unexpectedly.