Life is make belief

A game without rules this life is

A stage set for everyone to lose

Only fools will strive to understand the madness that this is

After all vanity has no real meaning

The hidden consciousness we have cannot be seen

Until we surrender to the fact of the irony

life is make belief I tell thee

Brothers and sisters, let’s make a great play out of it

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Mystic

She sits in the dark corners

At the late hours of the night

Uncovering the mysteries of her being

She dares to tread

What others fear and dread

Throwing all caution to the air

No one knows her trueness, her sincerity

An enigma to the world, she represents

Elusive, you have to search to find her current abode

Rare, a fine breed of human, she is

The mystic

She delves into the spiritual

Searches the supernatural for the natural

She knows all what’s physical,

Has a Spirit base

She knows the difference between good and bad

Practices the true, she throws away the wrong

Her soul is too mature for evil

Her mind is a philosophy

Nature’s working, a very own fascination

Governed by balance, she goes

Finding her own true way

Scratches

I am sorry to tell you

that all your efforts has just been scratches on my defense

You have not even started reaching within my surface-yet

Like I have touched yours

It’s all just scratches dear

As you try to break down the fortress around my heart

But do you why it’s even there?

Because the world did not consider me important to reach for

Keep on scratching my dear

I am sure someday you will find a great shovel

To make your way through my guard

Then will I be forever glad