Page 15.

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.