I am beautiful
Inside and out
With the most enigmatic eyes
And a heart of gold
                                      How do you know?
I've been told

I am a mouse
I cannot opine
Because I have no opinions of my own
I can never be bold
                                      How do you know?
I've been told

I am a ******
A semi-psychotic person
Who is warm, one moment
And another, unpredictably cold
                                      How do you know?
I've been told

I am coy, too shy
Too straightforward
For this twisted world
I'm from an era too old
                                      How do you know?
I've been told

I am bold, too bold
In my sexuality
I am losing character
Of which, I need to get a hold
                                      How do you know?
I've been told

I am not a woman, or even human
No really, I'm an armchair
I am not who I perceive myself to be
My identity belongs to them, me - they mould
                                      How do you know?
Do I have to be told?

Depression is a stalker, a clingy one at that.
He mainly comes when I'm alone, to remind me that I'm fat.
He always knows where I am, there is no escape.
But happiness shows up at my door, letting me think she's a replace.

A month or so goes on, no sign of depression.
But then he shows up in my room, due to his obsession.
I beg of him to move on, but he refuses to leave.
He talks and talks forever, feeding me more insults to believe.


I'm worthless and I'm stupid, he tells me so himself.
I can't believe not long ago, I didn't hate myself.
He follows me wherever, though only I can see him.
My friends don't even notice, that my tears are at the brim.

Depression is a stalker, but one day i'll be free.
I'll be with happiness, filled with so much glee.
I won't even see him standing there, he'll be so mad.
See, depression can't get to me, because I'll be too glad.

The Coy-Wolf still howls
At emblazoned snow ball moons
Alone & dire.

I've never told anyone that I missed them,
never told anyone that their absence keeps me up at night,
never had the privilege, or perhaps the curse, of experiencing my heart when it's submerged in love and longing.

I guess I've been dipping my toes in the water - too afraid to jump right in. I've never been careless like that.

Love is not a game, not a lake you jump into during the summer when the sun is high in the sky and you're sweating bullets.

Rather, love is that oasis you find after walking one eternal day in the desert of life - the clear water you stumble upon and drink and drink and drink until you're stumbling away with lightheadedness.

Love saves you -
gives you a reason to say I miss you,
I can't sleep when you're not here,
*take my heart with you if you really must leave me.

And one day you'll wake up with a heavy weight pressed to your back -
with the sound of rain and someone else's breath keeping you company,
you'll blink away nonexistent tears from your eyes and wonder where you are.

You won't know now but you'll understand later -
this is where you are meant to be.
Meant to be is tucked safe and sound in the arms of your lover -
with rain washing away all of the bad things in the night.
Things that you won't remember when you wake up again in the morning.

But for now -
have the courage to keep sleeping alone -
because there is someone else out there who is fighting to stay strong, too.
Fighting to find their way back to you.

I invite  three of you here on HP
to a gala on the banks of the Missippi
if you can recite for real the oath
of the Blind Deaf  Dumb  Wizards
for Truth

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