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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Maybe no one has ever truly known me in my subterranean layers, maybe some were disappointed by my dragonfly-wing fragile appearance, and they left leaving violet echoes in the empty chambers of my memory, maybe some were struck only by something specific like butterflies by a single flower. And they didn't search in my depths where roots drink their own shadow, no one was thirsty enough to drink my stream hidden in the earth, no one had enough water to moisten my soul dry as solar clay, maybe I never truly allowed anyone to enter my catacombs. Maybe I was afraid or maybe I was always enough universe unto myself, I was never like the others, because I appreciate and respect the darkness, and pain like a friend who sings black velvet songs in my veins, where there is pain there is soul and that is all I have ever needed. I sense what I know like an invisible radar detecting hidden frequencies, I bow with respect to every sigh that floats like blue smoke through the air, and to every gaze lost in its own world like a star falling into its own abyss, I touch without fear and with gentleness the tumult of people like electric waves. Because I find myself in everyone's harsh reality as in a fractal mirror, and yet, I have a merciless character like a knife blade sharpened on moonstones, a demonic will that burns like a green phosphorescent fire on starless nights, a toxic stubbornness like liquid mercury that always flows against gravity. An immense hatred toward soulful emptiness that resembles deserts of ash, toward those who feel nothing like mannequins of wax melted in artificial sunlight, because between pain and nothingness I have always chosen pain as life itself, nothingness is for worthless people like an empty box with no echoes inside. Feelings are for the soul either good or bad like alchemy that transforms metals, all build like invisible architects raising cathedrals from pure emotions, I have a pure soul like a crystal tear but I dress it as I wish like clothing, few have undressed it seeing my layers like garments of liquid light. Few know me but they hear of me every day like a myth circulating in whispers, I am the stream no one has drunk though it flows underground through their dreams, I am the dry soul awaiting the rain of liquid mercury and falling stars, I am the pain I choose like a crown of phosphorescent thorns in the night. And I am a pure tear reflecting all colors of the spectrum invisible to the eye, dressed in clothes woven from threads of darkness and light simultaneous in motion, no one has had enough cosmic thirst to drink from my subterranean stream, no one has had enough stellar water to moisten my soul of solar clay.
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