I often think in colors.
The abstract world is full of wonder.
I often process and ponder, and it then takes me under…
Next, when I am high, and doing good;
Those moments of depressive rain, turns into electric thunder.
Emotions are infinite in a way, that the abstract never gets old.
And I am a light in a dark world, even if I never get told.
And while, this critical voice of mine tends to brutally scold.
I become more bold, and I fight that voice with a thick iron that is cold.
My armor of wisdom, takes violent blows –
By the norm of societal standards, as my heart simply knows… .
How to live in it’s full spectrum of color, even if I have to adapt in a way that is discomforting in it’s very act.
I don’t feel trapped, no I don’t feel that.
I no longer feel tormented, no, I don’t feel black.
Feelings and free thought, I am after that always.
When thrown into the passion pit, I feel alive with my palms raised.
With poetry to reflect on, and as I write on in my calm days.
I am stronger for more storms ahead, as I clear away the past storm’s haze.
With the volume turned up, I dance in no more agony.
Depression is some sort of fallacy.
The darkness is always after me, but I am now strong enough to withstand the currents that are too intense statically.
But I am never in stagnation, because that is not in my pedigree.
I may have been low in life then, but I now know how to be resilient too.
I vow to make the darkness lodged in me, to be foreign as if Sicilian too.
I have a will to do –
Anything my heart desires to.
To feel alive, as riots do.
I plan on growing higher too.
So overcoming this darkness, is exactly what I will do.