Paperlife.

"Crisis of The Chrysalis"

Tough as nails but damaged goods. Emphatically, that's how he was viewed
In reality that's how he felt...
He was lost, yet he was found
In the dark or heaven bound?
Why did he have to be painted or tainted
With the wrong colors
The wrong palette, wrong facet ...
In the swarm of monarchs-to-be
He was incoming morpho-blue
A cerulean swimmer in scarlet seas
There was nothing he could do
Petrified in his own fate
Destined to a different state
Of what would be his being
His heart and his soul
And he will bind in crystals
Kissing pistols goodbye
Hardening and shelving out
Towards shadows ridden with doubt
Of trickery and aloof
This is no spoof he's here to stay
And stay he will, living days of
What would be his everlasting
Challenge of what life has to offer.
Yet he will read between the lines
And draw inside all of the lines
Giving glimpse of paper life
In plumes of ink that bleed behind
The ivories of his spilled mind
For he is scared of breaking through
The cocoons of what's anew
Rise and view reflection in the dew
Drops of truth that seal his self
And conjure his timeline of what
Is to come and come once more
Calling his brain through its allure
He will savor his time enveloped
In his chrysalis of solitude
But when it cracks...
He will too...