Keir,

Of Gaelic origin,

Meaning dark-skinned, dark-haired, or dark one.

Keir,

A misunderstood and unknown beauty,

A rare, undiscovered gem,

Often mistaken for common fool’s gold, But is in fact anything but,

Like water or air it is often taken for granted,

it’s true value never being acknowledged until it’s gone.

Underneath all this beauty, kindness, and joy lies a deep-seeded darkness.

Just below the surface bubbles a mixture of unbridled anger, deeply-rooted pain, and a history of deceit, deception, and disappointment from those who promised the most.

The only thing separating the two is a thin veil of empathy.

Though thin, this veil is strong, too strong at times, often nearly impenetrable,

and though that in its self presents it’s own set problems,

Without this veil, the boiling darkness would consume the beauty,

waging war on anything in its path like a forest fire.

And like a forest fire,

despite consistent and desperate attempts to douse its rage,

it only grows stronger,

flowing farther and faster,

consuming even more than before.

These walls are not solely to protect me from outside threats of heartache and pain,

but moreover,

to protect myself from being consumed by anger and pain,

To protect my beauty from the forest fire.

My body seeps an anger so intense it scares even me.

That’s not to say that the Joy and Kindness are fake,

but they are necessary.

I believe that if I allow even just an ounce of anger to seep it’s way out,

through the veil and to the surface,

I would never regain control of it,

and it would rage on for ever and ever and ever,

Like stated before,

consuming the beauty.