Though I am not transparent
I come from the deep
From beneath the weight
Of tons of all that is hard
Not recognized for my luster
My resilience is commendable
For I am no one’s imitation
A cubic zirconia, I am not
I am my own diamond
Rough, unpolished, raw
I am not shiny, nor pretty
But I am real
previously published on One Stop Poetry, feautured for One Shot Wednesday
Howling into obscurity,
they scrounge for scraps.
If nothing is leftover,
they rip the flesh from your bones.
They devour you by bits and pieces
until they mimic your very being.
Their own truths flicker for recognition
in the dark valleys of their souls.
As they draw your smile upon their faces
and trample in your well worn, dusty boots,
you will hear the growls of suffocated reality
that wrestle to escape in every breath.
Though they continue to sniff you out
and run on the tail of your dreams,
you need not lick the wounds of freedom.
Skeletons of lost souls
never see the light of day.
Your truths ride in on the rising sun
and etch the canyon walls
like ancient secrets.
The Great Masquerade Ball of all time
It’s here today, on a street called life
Do you have a ticket?
What shall you wear?
There are tons of designer labels to hide
The insecurities of daily living
And don’t forget you can always lurk
Beneath a tough exterior
Or a façade of power and importance
Or you can come as you are,
No mask, no disguise,
Just a humble expression of being
A creation of love and possibility
And see what happens
When the clock strikes twelve
Prompt is “masquerade”.