Covered under dirty soil,
Filled with lifeless petal,
that dried from the dehydration of perfection.
Isolations edges dig into my every flaw;
Scratching at my tender fragile skin.

I am cramped.
Cant get out,
I am stuck under this meadow floor
Filled with new born tulips,
Awakening from Winter’s frost;
To the dew of a new morning.

Their layers begin to open,
Shaking off last night’s frost.
A lifeless cast
Is replaced by their hue;
From the blackberry Winter’s melting heat.
Seeping out from underneath.

I am beneath Mother Nature’s beauty creation.
Submerged by the thorns pointed spikes,
Piercing at the touch of beauty.
I am between the darkness that holds in the soul;
Sucking out the energy to shine through
The cloud of defeat.

Pierced with poisonous thoughts,
That I will always be beneath beauty’s shine.
I am made out of only gray’s and blacks.
No hues.
Shades.
Or lighting;
Could being out me.