I think
as artists
we owe a lot to pain.

Put on
a robe of thorns
and write

about the nice weather outside
and that delicious burger
you had today.

Write about happiness
when you're in pain-
beauty.

I sold this moment
for the price of

momentary happiness.


Memories are not refundable.

I saw him walking to the gates.
Rushing to him, I called him.
Instantly, he looked behind,
And a soft sugary smile grew.

He held my hand,
With care and love.
And we walked to the gates.

There were more things to look at,
The green trees, the lovely flower, the cotton candy clouds,
The golden sun, the chirping birds,
But nothing was above the moment I enjoyed with him.

There was something gloomy in his eyes.
Sensing it, I raised my brow.

Looking at me with tenderness,
He rubbed his finger on my palm.
And said,
"I will be your best friend."

There was someone walking besides him.
She was beautiful, with maiden pride sparkling in her eyes.
She greeted me with a scornful smile.

It didn't cared,
If he would leave me.
I wanted to enjoy his company.
We talked and talked,
And my love for him grew.

With passing time,
I wished for him,
Till eternity.
I knew he loved me and he knew I loved him.
But the lady besides him,
Had her own plans.

And one day he walked out of those gates.

A sunshine smile, is a makeup they wear,
With loads of jokes in their book to crack,
You will always find them,
Howling, shouting, laughing,
As if the world will end that night.
You can approach them with all your problems,
they always have a solution.
You might even admire them,
And wish to be like them.

But friend you are wrong.
You don't know the person behind those masked expressions

Ever saw them in solitude?
Then you will see the TRUE them.
A sea of tears, covers their face,
With thunderstorm rising within them.
Their life is a dark cave,
with mysteries, and no light.

They can help everyone,
but not themselves.
They can speak of everything,
but not of their pain.
Why?
They don't want sympathy,
they just want care, that's a rare merit to find.
They are not wild,
But are soft like wax.
They will never hurt you,
'cause they know how it feels.

What we see, might not be true,
And what hurt people show is never true.

A girl went to a party dressed as a fairy.
At sixteen what was she thinking?
Her wings made from nylon stockings
With cut off bottoms and sequin pins
Sewn on in a succession of rings.

All glittery bold in green tights
And hair curled with peroxide highlights,
She really must have looked a treat;
As the powder pink began to sink
And black mascara dribbled ink.

The fairy dissolved in tears and ice,
Ran screaming from the party house
Down the street in a tatty torn gown,
Until she was found and brought around.
This fairy needed to learn to fly.

Love Mary x