Glue holding you, a porcelain vase, truth be told it was late to the glaze
late to the shine that reflects all the pain, to protect the heart you ran to the brain
time now caught, the box infront, worn world's turned rough, death mocks to confront
and opened lid, to share what you found, or kept snakes inside where the heart would be bound, poison and sickness to flow wide and free, no cage for the rage, hurt and disease, it spilled through your eyes, the beauty unclear, the trees are alive but they're shaded with fear, cars buildings and cats, guns fearful of fact, eye to mistrust, so never turn your back.
Never turn your back.
Rough ride to cracked veins, age touching on the name, Pandora, the young womans ashes spell out the blame, the story of tired humans wearing their shame, the badge of their pride on the left arm, the same, the red band of jealousy murder and hate, whose blood drips down fingers that cannot relate, that choke through the throats of those much the same, perhaps different clothes, skin-color or race, religion or family, bi straight or gay, intolerance released on that fateful day, when the box did yet shine, and the eyes did yet play, for the youthful child had now knowledge of today, and when she opened that box the world learned of dismay, yet 'twas but for her eyes did the world change in that place, a split second to make a full about face.
And years, and dust, have dulled through the shine, the glowing young woman remains trapped inside, a star, a sun, so wise and so kind, humble, with love, for others and life, for cats and her husband, and the DMT pipe, the lessons to share and the laughter and light.
through the storm and the flame it's here that we find, with a grin most insane, trapped deep in the mind,
what she thought she had lost at the end of her rope:
the last thing in the box that she opened was hope.
<3 love you pandora.
They don't think it be like it is, but it do.