Never understood the power of subtlety,
Like a chicken is only a chicken outside its shells,
But I watched people encased themselves in shells,
Just to shield themselves in this living hell,
But I for one, could never really tell.
Confusing words like depression with swell,
But the only thing that was swollen,
Was the black coated hearts become sullen,
And out of everything I have gotten,
Is that humans will never show their weaker sides,
To afraid to leave a bad light,
When their inevitable time comes and they die.
Always never trusting the hearts they confide,
So they say 'I'm happy', but they simply lie.
Humans are in a way like unhatched chickens and turtles,
Holding onto their shells until they hang themselves and become purple,
As though listeners will only ever be hurtful.

We keep our hearts locked up and hidden,
To avoid disturbing or even troubling others,
As though an expressive heart is forbidden,
Even when we treat one another like brothers.