This Is Me

Violet storm Was such a liquid part of me, A state in which  My youth then grew apart from me. Every day another restless breath, In which I grew Much closer to the act of death. So with this violet storm Playing clock above my heart, I memorised the code  In which my life did start. Closing eyes of hazel shade and Clenching molten fists of art handmade, I touched the time with tears in my heart And in my mind. Violet storm her clouds then thickened, As her laugher lines would rise, The plot it then did thicken As she dived into her eyes. So with her last breath constant she Would seek a mortal dream, She would balance with both heart And hand across the balance beam. In which her metal fists would break- Her youth again  Was born and tamed.  And there she danced once more Between the raindrops  Of the violet storm. By Boneata Bell

If you fear the dead, The living have cursed you. If you fear the living, The dead have haunted you. If you fear neither, The world has failed you. But if you fear both, The world has abused you.