Is It Really The Birth of a Diamond?

Cold, hard black coal.

Terrifying and ever present

At the epicenter of my soul.

Reminding daily that so much has gone,

So much more than there is time left for.

Filling me with the sinister doubt of self

Overwhelming me emotionally

Building inside of me an agonized scream

It dies on my lips

As the futility of my being bursts through

To my consciousness, burning white hot.

I inhale

I exist again for another day