Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

Heads or Tails? Did you ever create a mask to hide from the world? Did it ever become so powerful that it took over you? Did it elude you from real love, or loving yourself? It does that to me. I created my alter ego when I was broken and bruised. I did it because I didn't want the world to see how vulnerable I was. It was strong, it was free, and morever it was interesting. Years have passed and it has seeped into me. Yes, I know everyone has masks, everyone hides something. But frankly speaking, now I'm scared. The layers are difficult to peel, and I hear it laughing as I violently try to jerk it off. It won't go, it's grown on my face. If I tear it off, the bruises will be more than before, and the world will laugh again. I'm not crazy. Beneath my mask, I'm clear headed and practical, spiritual and real, homely and dreamy. But they can't see that. My mask brings people to me, people who are enthralled by negativity and darkness. They come, and when I slow

Frost Flowers Tell me your stories, fair little ballerinas, Do you dance around like swans, looking for love in this cold difficult world? When you come down in despair, dangling like parachutes with the wind, does you hair fly open and your skirts ablaze making you blush tenderly? When you fall gently on stems and mould back beauty and mystery into a dying life, And when it's time to die slowly, pour into the heart of your vast mother, do you cry a teardrop, hoping that next year, your shoes will last longer, just like the sparkle on your cheeks, on a frosty moonlit night?