I believe that if my emotions and feelings were to have a color, they'd be the color of emeralds. A dark, toxic looking color, so deep that one could get lost just merely gazing as they passed. A clear, stopped bottle lies inside of me. Made up of sharp angles and piercing edges. The poison curls about itself, wrapping a thousand times around into a spiral. Are they angry? I'm unsure if I should be afraid, although something inside that lyes far away from this bottle tells me to run. But how can I run from something hidden deep within my body? I can't, and I refuse to even attempt. Uncorking this bottle would mean to admit I'm human. Admit the errors of myself and others. Imperfection of the perfect, truth to the ears that hear only lies. How could I torment myself so? Is this really what's best? Emerald emotion, being bottled up inside, so literal it's almost ironic. Can you see the irony? Because I can feel it. Emerald is hot, scalding and harsh. A thousand tiny needles playing their wicked game along my skin and into my bones. Can I truely uncork this wild emotion? Is it safe to let the Emerald loose?