Is but a veil for pain, though created for appeal.
Ancestral rage, perceived with the heart,
Excavate with courage this bestowment of scars.
Precious jewels, hidden to fools, deprived enough light,
So the flesh conceals gems of omnipotent delight.
Flowing potential, these countless colors,
Can liberate the troubled or mutilate our brothers.
How misgiven that language so lightly falls:
“Just don’t listen!” Still, tots are born to, after all,
Immeasurable is the weight of words.
I implore you! Does a millstone ring any bells?
Wicked tongues, finely honed by hatred,
Sever all signs of spirit. For it is these
Universal blades, dreaded by most,
Removes the essence, that which separates us from ghosts.
Fate of these beings, though their vessels conceal,
Are coins that you flip and cards that you deal.
Will such reflections of you and I
Bring a future laced with laughter or cry?