I see the Beauty through the pain when life bestows upon us a storm or rain.
Breaking you down just to build you up, this pain we suffer in this half full cup.
You can’t stop it you can only embrace it in all its true forms.
But how, with what tools were we equipped with…to handle this thorn?
Which bedtime story that my parents read explains this part of the fairy tale ending?
Everybody circling is vulturous always bringing that bitch we all know as negative.
The rebel that thrives in me will break these chains.
Waiting for my moment to drive these reins.
I may be invisible but definitely am not your typical.
All these faults, and insecurities, these hidden gifts are magical.
Trip you up, fill you up, tie you up in an improbable game.
Tempting your dark side to gamble on the possibility of straying insane.
I was born to run, I was born to fly away from the parts of stories with lullabies.
Never owning up to predicables, or even alibis.
Every ounce of me, this high, this ride, this rollercoaster endless side.
Is predestined to a dangerous to the almighty tide.
That fights against your faults, formulating ways to toss you aside.
Want a lesson profound as most, you must take the risk, this dose of lust.
That most often, others pass in fear of trust.
If ever I shall stay the same, I’ll pitch in my savings to play the game.
But must you know the cost of time, With someone meant as only a season, and then there’s the others.
All to keep you from your sense of reason. All sacrificed in honor of the lessons.