women are treasure chests

women are treasure chests
by vieauty

My tears are diamonds while my sobs are gold.
The night is melted silver with the moon being a liquid white gold.
My crown are thorns made of every kind of jewel in this world—
the rare ones.
But people appreciate convenience more than rareness...
I hope they will live fine.

People tend to look at what is accessible.
They choose a bar of gold found at the shore—
more than the treasure chest a few steps away under the ocean.
They always pick the easy way out than the complicated path with lessons hidden beneath every rocks.
They pick copper assuming that it was gold—
more than the real gold a few inches away from their reach.

Their eyes are hooded,
blurry with drops of tear flowing freely because of the disappointment given by what-could-have-been's.
Because what could have been if they only walked a few steps more to the ocean?
What could have been if they only reach a few inches more to the real gold?
What could have been if only they tried harder and persevere more?
That's why they are killing themselves using the pain that what-if's brought to their lives.

That is why i realized that there are more than what they seemed to be.
They are not just what they are.
They have value and dignity,
elegance wrapped in their rareness,
unpredictability that comes to how they are made and improved by time,
and the richness that comes with their head held high.

Women of this kind are treasure chests.
They have rare jewels hidden beneath them but people always take a step back—
because wanting those jewels meant diving deeper to a complicated chasm of secrets and insecurities.
People do not want something that will slow them down and possibly drag them to the place they do not want to be.
Women of this kind is very complex.
And people don't like wasting time over diving deeper in that woman's treasure chest.

They will always like the easy way,
the convenient way without strings attached but with moving lips because of a forbidden language.
They will always want to enjoy the cheapest ticket than the yatch that they can maneuver for a lifetime if only they tried.
How I hope that regrets do not kill them because I heard that was someone's cause of death....

And now, he is a rotting corpse in his own grave of wasted potentials and despair.