Paroxysm |✓

Creative Fire

That girl over there with the book in her hands?
She was once the lead singer of a band
With her lilting voice and her charismatic air,
Her never-ending passion and artistic flair
No one could take their eyes of the stage,
But a string of haters locked her up in a cage
Insults were thrown, hatred was sent,
To her career, that marked the end.

That boy who stares out the window all day?
He once held the universe like a ball of clay
He painted the stars, he sculpted the sky,
But criticism made all his colours dry
He no longer carved in his ancient den,
And he never picked up his brush again.

That girl who dresses in blacks and greys?
She was once as bright as the sun's rays
she tried different styles, she was unique in her choice,
Her clothes were her expression; her fashion, her voice
When the labelling began, she didn't want to create,
She blended in and succumbed to the hate.

That boy who sits at the back of the room?
He was once not drowning in gloom
He talked to everyone, he had many friends,
But judgement and rumours marked his end
His social aura, his brilliant smile,
All vanished within a while.

Hatred shed its dreary light,
On all of those who couldn't fight
It lured them in, it locked them out,
It made them forget what they were passionate about
Behind every mystery, every sorrow, every tear,
There's a hidden talent that's shadowed by fear.

Judgement, labels, a shower of hate,
No one should carry that kind of weight
Do hear me out, my plea is dire,
Don't spread hate and dim a creative fire.

~Via