So beautiful, these crystals

So beautiful, these crystals,
but not to all eyes;
for they are cloudy and drab
And irregularly shaped - 
if they were not borne 
by me, I too would have wanted
to throw them away.
Despite the cloudiness, I see
clarity, a grain, buried deep within
and it seems drab only because
the shades are far too intense,
its irregularity is magical.

So beautiful, these crystals
and like all things beautiful, deadly;
they corrode all that they touch,
even my fingers, as I hold them.
I look back, at the havoc
they leave behind, as they form,
a trail of blood.
Regrets, with insecurities to match,
a pinch of fear, and a dash of doubt,
dissolved in the cocktail 
of all that I hide,
is it any surprise, the nature
of these that I hold.

So beautiful, these crystals,
its deadliness and perfection,
hidden to all but me,
and my resolve oscillates between
hate and wonder,
who knew frustration could be so
fascinating.