Literature
14. Metal Mettle
I was born with a silver tongue, Copper eyes and a gold heart. A grain of salt in my head and skin of obsidian. The silver has tarnished, But it stays slick with lies told , And untold. And retold. My lips seem bruised and discolored, poisoned by the silver within. The copper has oxidized, Turning blues and greens under the force of the salt water of my tears. And all the strife they have seen. The golden heart starts soft and pure Shining in the sunlight. But it is soft. Malleable All too soon it is dented. And pieces taken. It is better known as Fool's Gold, When it glints in the light to attract another. The grain of salt becomes a pearl that is my brain. Over time it shall mold Rolled within my cavity, an irritant until it is beholden as some fantastic beauty of nature. My skin is obsidian. Beautiful and Smooth Shattering off with any amount of force, Sharply cutting to those that try to touch me wrong. I am a treasure trove, Of precious metals and beautiful things. I may
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