The apathetic deal with their emotions by not touching them.

Thoughts, what thoughts?

They turn feeling into physicality

Some say its a brute, primal way.

But it's genius,

Brilliant,

To recycle the bad

Into ultimate good.

To not feel

Cry

Hurt

Deal.

Survival

Is very human.

To search

Yearn

Hope

Cry

Scream

Wish

Desire.

The world says,

How pitiful are those who let their emotions run free.

Those whom release attributes that natural selection did not plan for,

That survival will not support.

Yet we call this living.

To hurt is to live.

To fear

To wonder

To search

To be at an unknown

Is living.

A beautiful mind speaks what is inside

But a mind that survives

Stays silent.

Beauty withers in the presence of life.

As the beautiful bird becomes prey

The bird with silent colors lives until the end.

To the end of the world? 

To the end of time?

Who knows?

For the beautiful never live to see it.

The end comes to them suddenly,

Overwhelmingly.

Constructs of life are made clear or their minds are made

Dead.

Beauty can not survive.

It never has.

Humanity regresses with this connection

Attempting to find the soul, 

The meaning, 

The beauty of life.

Forgetting about survival

They grasp to connect with an inner self

Something they believe to be of some worth.

When physical life deteriorates

The spiritual life is born,

Grasping at a last chance

To be beautiful.

Taking the mesmerizing hand

Of certain death

Forgetting the condition of survival

For the curse of beauty

In all it's forms.

We minds are beautiful.

We minds will be crushed by this beauty.

We minds will die.