Faceless people, how beautiful are we?
Not anyone's eyes can ever see--
Our faceless faces, out of sight.
Disguised with freedom to write!

Faceless people, no mouth, yet with a voice.
No eyes, yet can see, and follow choice.
With hands to write down all our say,
That may see the light of day.

Faceless people, we can shout our faint cries;
Without being judged by just our guise.
Without a face, we can escape--
The horror they try to shape.

Faceless people, let's burn our old faces,
Let's be unknown through all the places.
No need for blood, no need for tears,
No need for despair nor fears!

Faceless people, how beautiful are we?
Judged by just our personality,
Our words, our dreams, our soul, our heart--
Faceless people, we're the start.

'Was it all worth it', she wondered as her feet hit the earth. Was the experience she had taken in a disappointment to the ones she held dear?

Will they accept her broken promises and look the other way? Have they already anchor her down to the sorrows they have felt?

The way her mind swirls many will call a paradox of a time relapse that has been lost forgotten in an empty deserted land. And she wonders if it'll ever make sense to another living man.

Her life doesn't shine as they say it should in the books and her feet don't care her as long as they should.

They call this depression, but she wished she never heard. Then maybe the voice of misguided gestures of the ignorant will stop raving her mind.

She never felt truly accepted by the people she calls home and they call this anxiety, a word that means no home.

Fitting isn't it? For a girl with long hair to feel as if her life is a never ending misery?

The only thing she hopes for is to be free on a day with daisies and butterflies in the air.

Is it your face
that adorns the garden?

Is it your fragrance
that intoxicates this garden?

Is it your spirit
that has made this brook
a river of wine?



Hundreds have looked for you
and died searching
in this garden
where you hide behind the scenes.



But this pain is not for those
who come as lovers.

You are easy to find here.

You are in the breeze
and in this river of wine.

What if I fell in love
With a broken down *******
Not because I needed to fix him
But simply because I wanted to revel in his beauty
The maddening craziness
Of a life
A life that didn't need to be maintained with perfection
A life where you could just knock down pillars that you didn't need
Destroy friendships that weren't beneficial
A life where one could disown one's own mother
Without the whole neighbourhood offering their tut-tuts
And their 5 cents too many
About how to trim your garden
What if I fell in love with a life
Who let their weeds grow
And created a garden out of thorns
A **** patch that would make those neighbours shriek
What if I fell in love with chaos and disorder
Not to right the tables
Nor to order the shelves
What if I didn't attempt to prune the garden
But I let it grow into a forest
And then laughed when I stepped on a thorn
What if I let the sun shine through the madness
What if I opened my arms to the destruction
What if you sung me a lullaby out of tune
And I asked you to sing it anyways…

You’ll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves—
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drout will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn’t reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night.