I have no costume on
I wear no mask
I see what you see
I hear what you hear
My heart is not a spider web
Nor will it catch you off guard
It ain’t a skeleton in the closet
As you can see what I see
I have no spooky ideas
I have no creepy creations
Maybe I am the abnormal
As my mask is the see through one
Life is not a costume parade
Nor it needs to be one day wonder
It becomes a miracle
When we share what we feel
Say what you feel day in and day out
Until the zombies go out
I will surely see what you see
I will hear what you hear
he was a no mask man
he looked into my eyes
into my soul
he pulled me forth
caused my mask to fall
his open vulnerability and strength
his cheeky smile
his desire for a better world
he held me
in every way it's possible to hold a person
he held me
like a baby
like a woman
like a child
like a lover
i didn't realise how much i needed to be held
he looked at me as if i was the most beautiful woman in the world
as if i truly was his angel
i felt like an angel when i was with him
he looked at me with eyes of pure love
he danced with me
ate with me
sat with me
listened to me
He was a no mask man
We said yes to the world
Yes to life
We spend so much time editing ourselves,
correcting every little thing that displeases.
Even my poetry is revisited,
trying to pretty up all my diseases.
But I no longer want to appear "neat" or "tidy".
I want to show the world all the things I am hiding...
It is difficult to do the right things,
some times I would rather sin,
but then I remember
Who gave me new life again.
I lay in my bed too long when I wake,
trying to read my bible,
but like the disciples
I fall asleep...
I am too ******* myself, thinking I need to be perfect.
Other times I don't try hard enough,
out of fear that it isn't worth it.
I struggle to forgive, others and myself.
I struggle to realize only I can choose to not live
I want to restore relationships, but sometimes I fear it
hurts too much.
I am working on remembering
Who is my source of love.
My biggest admission, is that I try to control.
I want to tell God how to write the story,
thinking my words are some how better or more bold.
When in reality He is author of every single thing.
I am reminding myself I am lucky to even be written
into a single page.
— The End —