there are cracks
cracks in the most beautiful stone
the stones found in the ruins of hidden remains
remains of an indescribably beautiful city
a city that shone brighter than the brightest star
It glittered like pyrite
not like gold
the pyrite city may have given off an iridescent shine
but It was dark
darker than the deepest, raging saltwater waves
darker than the night sky without pestering clouds
darker than the thoughts of those who wore a porcelain face
and that gooey darkness was seeping through the cracks
of those beautiful stones
those fake stones, the ones that gave off that too-good-to-be-true shine
were cracking under the pressure
and letting the compression release