You think they all start the same way.

It’s always the same words, in your eyes,

Made up of the same letters.

You draw a picture made of lines and curves,

That are all the same color.

“All lines begin at a point,” you say,

“Just like everything began at a point.”

A point that exploded into something that became one thousand colors.

And now you sit on your couch,

In your own little corner of the world.

The little mirror on your wall looks like something from Hollywood,

Because there’s a little diamond embedded in the bottom of its frame.

At school, you take a science class,

And you learn about a world that existed long ago, that’s now buried beneath the ground.

It sounds like someone’s fantasy,

But today you see a little piece of its remains,

Glittering in the light.

Your favorite movie plays on the TV in front of you.

The world it depicts is someone’s fantasy,

But part of it is true.

You see a girl standing tall on a stage.

“There will always be another something,” she says,

“Another price, or another gem.

But it’s not a matter of whether there are or aren’t diamonds.

It’s a matter of what each of those diamonds comes to be,

Because each diamond has a different story,

Even if all stories start the same.”