Sometimes we hand ourselves Over to violence As if in punishment For crimes we did not commit. And they will tell us When someone shows you Who they are behind their mask, You should believe them the first time. But we never do. So will I believe you the second Third or fourth time you let your mask slip? How long does it take To realize that you're falling For the same lies You told yourself as a child? We all have our blind spots in life. You lived in mine so long With that same old, tired dance and song, But now that I see what’s behind the mask, I can never unsee. Will I ever be free From a life lived merely to survive This game of lies? I've been surrounded By people covered in hard scaled armor My entire life, So I didn't realize there was any other way to be. Will I hang myself at the alter Of these unrealized sins? Or will I find a better way to live? I still have to look in the mirror To prove to myself that underneath my mask, *I* still exist.

You say you can't hear the music anymore As your shadow dances on the floor The face you hide from the world Beautiful mask for a beautiful girl You've shed your tears to grieve your loss, Molded into a box you never chose, The roles assigned – the agreed upon cost. You cry until there's nothing left, You shrink yourself to become so small That you can fit upon the shelf Made for you by someone else. You wander through life in constant yearning Forever incomplete, searching for lost memory, The meaning. Time cannot heal your broken soul, On the wall your silhouette, your shadow, dances slow The melody still echoes in your mind As you drown in the oceans of time. Emerging from the sea, nothing remembered but the song, You have been able to hear all along.

Memory breathes old grief Out into the open, That once hid In the dark corners Of your life, In wait For the perfect time to come back out And remind you Of those old wounds That have not healed, Only gone unnoticed And unattended For so long That you forgot they were there. But they haven’t forgotten you.

We are all of the same spirit, Woven Into the tapestry of life. All a tiny speck of a puzzle piece That creates a whole Living, breathing, continuous organism. We all come from the same sin That calls out to us from the dark, Hidden in shadow. We all pursue the same material things Thinking they will somehow make us whole, But we’re trying to fill a space that Was never truly empty. And we endlessly try to fill our cup From the wrong source. Our insecurities make us chase excessive, Expensive things - distractions. In the never ending desire to achieve The beautiful life, We become plastic, unbending But the never ending masquerade must go on To convince everyone else that we’re Worthy of the respect we cannot give ourselves. In the end we find The expensive house, Bursting at the seams with all of our Meticulously collected shiny things Becomes a burden. The fancy car is unreliable and too small To fit our true selves into. So again, we feel empty and try desperately To fill that space back up With newer, shinier things, But they’re only watered down substitutions. The foundation has always been unstable So it crumbles, crashes and burns. And we all spin wildly out of control Throwing it’s ashes to the wind. We’ve been spinning on this tilt o whirl So long, we hardly know what to do Once it’s stopped. As we walk away, With our feet on solid ground for once, Maybe we will finally see That we are all walking inside the same skin, All a part of one, Already full, already whole And maybe we can find a sense of peace Long sought after And finally come to a place of restful content.

He has a cute little button nose with a parade of freckles dancing across its bridge and spilling over each side onto full, rosy cheeks. His hair, the color of a fiery orange sun setting over deep blue oceans. His smile, generous and authentic causing deep dimples to form at its borders, framing a rippled, crinkled little nose. His skin, a light parchment still smooth and brand new in its innocence. Its crisp new pages barely written upon, the beginnings of a life yet to be lived. He is the gentle, early light that creeps through the window each morning.

Once I was wild and free, Imaginative and curious Wanting to explore every corner Of the universe and uncover It’s secrets. Maybe a little loud And boisterous, But assured that my ideas And dreams were within reach. Then I was shamed Into quieting myself down. Fear of the unknown was instilled. And suddenly, exploring the world Seemed frightening and impossible. Just a silly joke I had played on myself. I was judged and found wanting. Small, incompetent girl who thinks She could be someone in a world Filled with so many faceless no ones. I tried to hide myself in the darkest, Smallest corner of the universe I could find In hopes they wouldn’t see me anymore. That they would ignore me and forget All about me and my shortcomings. So I stuffed myself into so many boxes And roles that simply weren’t me. Until I became so fake and plastic And sick that I had to break free. I burned those boxes to ash, Stepped out of the darkness To once again be wild and free.

The tall man walked onto the covered the sidewalk from the rain, a large black umbrella obscured his face in which he never lowered. He turned and began to walk steadily towards the outskirts of downtown that led to the old train tracks. He kept his umbrella over his head although he was now safely out of the wind gushing downpour. Most everyone had huddled under the awnings of the shopfronts when the rain started pouring in buckets, so the sidewalk was fairly crowded. Mike watched the man walk swiftly through the crowd and noticed that everyone quickly stepped aside and gave him a wide berth as if he were parting the seas. Everyone the tall man passed by suddenly recoiled when they saw him up close. Mike kept his distance and trailed behind at least 20 feet until his curiosity got the best of him. As they came closer to the edge of town where the sidewalk would end and give way to grassy fields leading out to the edge of thick, forested land, Mike picked up his pace and got within a few yards of the man with the black umbrella. He could now hear his coarse, raspy breathing but could only see a long black trench coat with collar popped over slumped, broad shoulders. He could see no part of the actual man, just his flowing black coat, large black umbrella and the soles of his boots pounding against the pavement as he marched forward like a soldier in a death parade. A parade that had been long abandoned by everyone but him. Just as he reached the edge of the sidewalk, the man turned to face Mike who audibly gasped. The tall man stood at least 7 feet tall, although slight hunched at the back. The umbrella still hung over most of his face, but his stark white chin jutted out prominently. Two boney pale hands grasped the handle of the umbrella tightly against his chest. The man tilted the umbrella back and Mike could finally see his ghastly pale face. Two dark eyes twinkled blankly from dark, deep inset sockets above his cheeks. His skin was unnaturally white and reminded Mike of a fishes belly, smooth and pale but seemingly slimy and gross at the same time. Sickly pale skin stretched thin over his high cheekbones, then sunk into the hollows of his meatless face, making him look like a corpse. He smiled viscously and then disappeared around the corner.

I could hear his sighs From every corner of every room, As if simply not getting what he wanted Every hour of every day Simply would not do. Deep breaths take up far more space Than silence And I cannot reconcile all of the violence Echoing from each and every wall. Maybe this was my downfall, Meeting you and thinking I’d discovered my freedom When I had only walked into Another cage.

In the midst of twilight, golden light shining down from a thousand stars big as grapefruits, gilding the leaves on millions of trees for miles. Memories came flooding back to her of a time before the war, before the darkness knew her name. Before she ever looked down into its depths and saw her own reflection. Many of those memories had been lost, she thought, but this one came raging back in a flash like finding a long lost photograph buried in the dust and cobwebs of her mind. That night, so many years ago was much like this, golden and alive with magic, but not nearly as quiet. Music echoed from every corner of the square, all the townspeople gathered there dancing, laughing and loving under the light of a half full, yellow harvest moon. It was more peaceful then, or so she thought. She was young and naive and unaware of the schemes of those with an insatiable appetite for power. It was the calm before the storm that most mistook for a peace and security that would last for years to come. The darkness had come for their entire village and it would show no mercy and take no prisoners. It would separate the weak from the strong and the corrupt from the righteous, but in the end, it didn’t care which was left standing. She wished she would have known that back then. Now here she stands, alone after all the destruction. After everyone has gone. It feels like standing alone at the edge of a dying universe again. And although lonely, it’s so much better than the other world. The one filled to the brim with souls she was always so desperate would notice her existence just for a brief moment. At least here she never had to pretend she was anything more than she was, a ghost of a forgotten land. One of the very last inhabitants of a dying star.