Pull the masks from our faces to reveal...
Our eternally exquisite interiors
Like diamonds in the rough
Man-made tools would not be equipped to dig into the hardness of our pasts
That have cemented patterns and cyclone cycles
Unending spiraling of uncontrolled instinctive thoughts..

Stop.

Backtrack, rewind, stop.

Where did "I" begin?
And how have I become this way?