Geode Masquerade

The stone is thrown

It hits you in the head

In an attempt to knock sense into you

As if you need the sense

Yeah, right

The rock leaves bruises

It hurts

It stings

Until one day, you get sick of it

This time, you're ready for it

You catch that rock as it comes

Hurtling like an asteroid

Right at you

Once safely in your grasp

You throw it to the ground

And instead of breaking into hard, ugly chunks

Cold, gray, and rough

It shatters


Fragments of amethyst fly

Shards of quartz scatter

So this is really what the rock is made of

Softer, colorful, shining stones

Gentle to the eye

And mesmerizing

So this is the truth behind the colorless rock

What a silly thing to keep secret!

Something so beautiful

So kind

Should surely be brought out more

But that would break every rock

They would break down

No contol over their precious stones

It would leave them vulnerable

Susceptible of all kinds of trouble

All genres of misfortune

But keeping the truth concealed

Leaves a geode vulnerable towards

The real rocks

With nothing pleasant about them

Nothing understanding to them

But until the geode is comfortable

With its vulnerabilities

Then it shall always masquerade