Evil dons a political mask, puppetry performed with carefully construed phrases, public favour swayed… and as a final ruse deploys duplicitous vestments declaring divinity onboard.
One a Tom – night prowler, elusive schemer – renders me sleepless. Another, pampered, a diva demanding, high anxiety to boot – makes me crazy.
Such a gift is youth – silvers stars and bows, jingle-jangle wishes… Seldom opened – shame and insecurity casting doubt, despair Shall we try again,
Does the caterpillar question, eek out the significance of each puzzling piece, self-impose standards, before submitting to transformation? Why then, must I tear at each
Re- dun- dant, these rituals by which I define myself – find purpose, validate my being – I create herculean tasks, ignore God’s role, the
Guilt’s a child – nonsensical in actions – attempts to hide, shame-faced, lies – Guilt is but a child holds me hostage – adult self,