Tales from the unfortunate

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Spiraling, down we go.

Head first, diving into the black puddle.

Rock bottom awaits us,

Curious as to if we'll make it this time.

We choke on the words that want to be spoken.

They hold a certain power over us,

Demanding to be acknowledged.

Yelling at us if we choose to ignore them.

What awakened the beast?

A trip down memory lane?

Today's reality?

.. pressure?

Don't be fooled, darling,

Not only diamonds are made under pressure.

The voices feed off the crushing tension.

Craving the taste of uncertainty.

Where roars are amplified by echoes,

We stumble upon nadir,

Where we learn to embrace, giving up control.

Spiraling, down we go.

- the restless minds

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