Deception, you're so beautiful

I've been told that the Devil dresses in red.
That his appearance is frightening.
That his countenance is demise itself.
I've been told to run from the demon in red.
To not touch his pointy pitchfork with a shine.
They warned me of the fiery arrows that protude from his mouth.
Ah, but do they not know that deception is beautiful?
Deception, you're so beautiful.

When I first saw him, he dressed in beautiful colors.
Like the colorful coat of Joseph, he shined.
Innocence, pure innocence in his tone of kindness.
The most fascinating spectrums of color in his eyes.
And those lips. They seemed to be dripping with an oil.
Deception, you're so beautiful.

We are blind to his approach without discernment and wisdom.
I didn't even recognize him in those clothes, those handsome eyes.
I was looking out for a red devil, not a beautiful one.
And what he has to offer, was nothing I'd seen before.
Death never looked so good.
Candy was offered to me by this kind stranger.
Deception, your candy is so delcious.

You are a fool to think that sin is not fun.
That the candy is not delicious.
Ah, but only for a time, only in the moment!
The creature stroked my hair as I licked the lollipop.
Ah what pleasure! But only in the moment!
Deception, your candy is so delicious, for a time.

With a most tempting smile he asked me a simple question.
"How many licks does it take to get to the center of a lollipop?"
How charming and witty he is! A humour of his own.
With curiosity I ventured further into the candy.
With my last lick, I estimated nearly 256 licks of pleasure.
And his wide cherry eyes stared at my throat.
In that moment, my throat was on fire. Hell was in my throat.
Deception, your candy burns my throat.

My tongue experienced the deepest waves of pleasure to
the deepest waves of torture and horror.
A trick! A trick! I screamed at him.
I searched for water to satiate the burn, the flames.
He leaned down to me and held my head.
With a hint of compassion he held out another lollipop.
"Here my dear, a lollipop resembling water to satiate the burn."
Desperate, I licked that blue lollipop. Ah, and relief came!
Deception, you offer candy to relieve the first sin.

With each lick, I calmed down with a slow smile.
There was relief in this candy and it covered up the previous sin's sting.
With horror I watched the devil lick his lips and stare at my heart.
Immediately, my heart seemed to tear. What excruciating pain!
My heart was ripping! A trick! A trick! I screamed.
This pain tripled with each scream. I knew I couldn't satiate this pain.
My body convulsed and I shook on the floor. He stood above me and laughed.
Taunting me, he held out his hands of candy. "Here darling, more pleasure. Eat."
Deception, you taunt with more candy.

And this is where we become addicts. We are convinced we love this candy.
Despite the horror and consquential warnings, we indulge in that creature's candy.
Don't you see? That beautiful creature gracefully approaches you only to
kill your heart, steal your appetite, and destroy your being.
He is the greatest actor alive.
I believed that he loved me, admired my beauty. Ah but he despises me.
He has no intention of treasuring me. No intent of keeping me alive.
Deception, you are the greatest actor alive.

Deception, I'll expose your horror disguised in pleasure and beauty.
And you should know Deception,
Greater is He that dwells within me than you who dwells in an illusion.

I chose to get on the train.

I have been sitting in the snow for hours.
Just sittting, staring at the fumes caused by my breath.
My pants are soaking wet. I don't even have shoes on.
My hands are hidden in my coat pockets.
My nose no longer is runny or irritated. Just simply frozen.
I missed the train last night. And the night before. I always miss the train.
Every night, it stops by my house with loud bells and screaming exhaust pipes.
My heart rushes and I get excited, I really do. Then, i seem to... just stare at it.
Sure, I've pictured myself getting on that train and smiling rather big.
I've pictured myself chasing that train with all that these legs can perform on icy streets.
I've dreamed of what I would do when I get on that train.
With a heroic jump, I would cling on to the train's railing. Then I would climb the train.
I would walk down the train aisles, people would be astonished by the stranger panting by them.
Eventually I would make it to the front of the train. I'd swing open the conductor's door with a boldness.
I would tap the conductor on his shoulder. He would turn around and say nothing but hold me. He would maybe even cry. I would quietly say to him, I'm home. I'm home, conductor.
But... then I open my eyes and I remember that it's just my imagination.
That, I'm still staring at that red train in the bitter snow.
And I start to laugh because of my stupidity. But, that's when the tears come, as well.
I miss the train every night. And every night that conductor looks out of his window at me.
He smiles at me. In fact, captures my gaze. And with his welcoming train whistle, he calls to me.
You see, I've been on this train before. That's why I'm attached to this red train and that conductor.
I was on this amazing train ride, then I jumped off. Something caught my gaze in the snow.
I jumped off for that shiny object. No one could stop me from jumping, not even the conductor.
It's all about choice. And I once chose to get on that train. Then once chose to jump off.
I've been in this snow too long. I know this. I've known it for half a year. I've known it my sleep.
They laid out all the facts for me, all the maps, all the truth of where I belong, on that train.
They gave me the truth and I acknowedged it. But, no action played. No muscle moved.
No attempt was made to get up. To run. To crawl to that train. To cling to the last hope of life.
This is what happens when you know the truth yet have no will to take that truth and run with it.
But. What if, what if I chose tonight to climb on that train. What if I did?
It's possible. What if I did run or even crawl to it? If I climbed that train and walked to the conductor?
That would change everything. Nothing special has to happen to me. No miraculous sensation.
No happy feeling, no inspirational sign. I have a choice. Will I choose life on the train with that conductor? Or death in the snow of bitterness yet hold on to my shiny object? It's a choice. My choice.
I am no fool yet no wise owl. I've compared this shiny object to the train many times.
Somehow, the object's shiny apperance always wins my affection. Not any more.
This life in the snow has nothing but a dangerous sleep in its white covers, a sleep of white death.
So here it is. No huge declaration, no fireworks of thrill, no sensation background music playing.
I choose to be on that train. I choose to be with that conductor and his adventrous train ride.
I'm getting on my knees. I'm crawling. I'm crawling faster. I'm walking. I'm jogging. I'm running.
I'm sprinting after the train. I'm screaming. I'm jumping on the train. I'm climbing the train. I'm on the train. I'm on it. I'm walking past all the shocked passengers. I'm panting down these aisles.
I'm swinging the conductor's door wide open. I'm tapping him on the shoulder. I'm being embraced by him. I'm telling him, "I'm home. I"m home, conductor." I'm on the train with my conductor. I'm alive now.

I was the Princess. You were the Pauper.

I was the Princess. You were the Pauper.
You were born as an accident.
I was born as a purpose in mind.
You opened your eyes to a world of hate.
I opened my eyes to a world of love.
You grew up with bruises.
I grew up with kisses.
Your house was the street and your playground the gutters.
My house was my family and my playground was drizzled with dolls.
You brought a knife to school for protection.
I brought my new calculator and bible.
You were touched.
I still remain untouched.
Your demons slept under your bed.
My demons slept in hell.
Your angels were unseen.
My angels danced around me.
Your father threw you around the kitchen.
My dad twirled me about the ballroom.
You escaped worry with your drugs.
I escaped worry with his promises.
You drank the alcohol to ease pain.
I drank his blood that covered my pain.
You didn’t eat to stay pretty.
I ate because I knew what pretty meant.
You built walls of hate and distrust.
I destroyed walls that claimed such.
You rebelled against the voice over you.
I submitted to the wisdom over me.
You ran away from home.
I ran to my home.
Your friends only accepted the evil in you.
My friends only accepted the good in me.
You were thrown down like a dog, how can you forget.
I was treated as a princess, how can I forget.
You sliced your skin for comfort.
I was massaged with warm hands.
You were raped.
I never knew the word.
You’ve experienced the world.
I’ve experienced God’s world.
You held the gun in your mouth.
I folded my hands in church.
You are not like me.
I am not like you.
You despise my world.
I never knew of your world.
I am more than a pampered, rich girl with the perfect life.
You are more than a cultured girl with a destroyed life.
You haven’t met me.
I haven’t met you.
But, tonight, I know we’re equals.
The princess and the pauper. We’re equals.
We both have something to give.
And both called to a different stage.

Curse. Nurse. Rehearse.

Ouch! It was that little kid who ran with scissors!
It seems he has punctured my knee!
With these wide eyes and mouth,
the bleeding runs like a bubble bath.
So off to the nurse I go.
With a skeptical brow she looks me down.
She puts a hot cloth over the cut
and here's where I SCREEEAM.
OUCH you're hurting me!
She shrugs off my plee
straps a red bandaid on this knee.
With a harsh slap on the back
she sends me to my chair.

I sat waiting in the chair
with an itchy itchy stare.
The red bandaid began to bother me.
Oh! Curiosity won the best of me
So i looked side to side
making sure no one could see
me unveiling this bubbling cut of mine.

It stung just looking at it.
Immediately I cursed that child who cut me!
How dare he scar then just disperse.
Curse Curse! You ruined my perfect knee!
And that's when i ran off in my mind.
I played the clip of him running with scissors.
Each rewind brought me greater delight.
Rehearse Rehearse! What a good actor he was!
Rehearse Rehearse, it only ended with a curse.

Ah, but how delightful it was!
I licked my lips and stared in awe.
This blood made me thirsty for more.
So i touched the wound
and oh it made me snarl!
The pain so real, so safe.
I nursed and nursed this wound.
Nurse Nurse! I think it's back to health?
Perhaps not. But what a good nurse I am!

And so you see, it's a vicious circle!
I curse. I nurse. Then rehearse.
WHAT FOOLISHNESS you see!
Thank goodness something was invented
for people like me.
Forgiveness was invented just for me.
The wise inventor used it on me.
And now I can give it out for free!

Now when you see me. Ah!
Don't assume I'll attack and snarl!
For the inventor has given me
and new motto you see
Forgive. Forget. FUN!
This cut will not destroy me.
I forgive. I forget. I have fun.

I am a Tapestry. Come gaze at me.

Today was a most unusual day.
As I heard the expected footsteps approach my sprawled out body,
I welcomed them with a most genial tone, “Hello. Please, step on me.”
I tightly closed my red eyes and waited for the usual jolts of pain to shuffle across my dented back.
Yet, today was a most unusual day.
The feet stopped in front of my face. Could this be? They were rejecting to walk over me?
I slowly raised my head in fear of an unsatisfied customer’s complaint.
It was a man’s bare feet spread with a coat of dirt like frosting on the cake.
I stuttered with a fearful smile, “I’m sorry. Are you not satisfied with this rug, sir?”
The silence pierced me and I placed my head back in the muddied dirt.
Then, I heard the man kneel down and wrestle with the dirt. He was lying down.
He was lying down, at my level? It was a most unusual day.
With irritated eyes I opened them wide. There he was,
the man three inches from me, staring with his head resting on his crossed forearms.
I was speechless and replied to his stare with yet another stare.
“Why do you insist on being a rug, dear lady?” The stranger said with a melancholy look.
I stuttered in speech, “I am doing others a favor, don’t you see?”
“You lie to yourself. For you are no rug. You do not belong on the dirt, under the other’s feet. “
Then he softly grabbed my chin, that most daring stranger.
“You belong on the walls of the most famous gallery in Rome, dear lady. For you are a tapestry.”
I was silenced forever, so it seemed. Stunned, he picked me up.
He brushed me off and placed me in his arms like a prized painting in a gallery.
Proudly, he displayed me for the world to see.
With a wide grin and proud countenance he placed a sign on me, “I am a Tapestry. Come gaze at me.”

I am a Rug. Please, step on me.

Today was not such an unusual day.
A crowd of friends and strangers stands and looks me over.
With a most kind and generous tone they tell me,
“Lay down like a rug so that when we walk over you, our feet won’t get dirty.”
Ever willingly I nod my head, for I truly believe I’ll make the others happy, if I were their rug.
Immediately, I drop to my knees and feel the sting as the dust creeps into my wounds.
With eyelids shut, I lay down my body on the harsh, dirt floor.
Bruised legs spread wide, scabbed arms stretch above my head.
Mouth pressed to the ground, my lungs inhale the horror of dirt’s residue.
The dirt still persistently crawls into the trenches of open skin.
“They are worth this, right? Of course, such pretty people deserve a rug to protect their clean feet.”
My thoughts played over and over again.
With a dirtied smile to the ground and a voice filled with glee I say, “Please, step on me.”
One by one they walk over me.
Some are heavy, some not so bad. Some leave scars and some plant thorns.
Some ignore my service, some even care to brush me off after they’ve walked all over.
With each passenger, I warmly welcome their feet to travel across me.
Sometimes there are few travelers, sometimes there are mobs that leave me in pools of red.
No matter the foot’s weight, shape, or size, I am most confident they are delighted to travel abroad.
Today was not such an unusual day.
With eyes red and lips of pocketed soars, I wave to the friends and strangers.
Then thank them for traveling with Rug Airlines, once more.

You say “Fight!” I say “Die!”

You say “Fight!” I say “Die!”
Bruises, Cuts, Breaks, and Bleeds.
This is what we’ve reduced to be?
You want to raise fists and fight, but I want to lay down and die.
What started the clenching of teeth and poison seeping through our words?
Bitter exchanges. Raised voices. Sharpened daggers. Bloodied aftermath.
What else can we accomplish tonight?
Perhaps, I’ll attack your self confidence.
Perhaps, you’ll attack my self image.
Round by round, this boxing match grows weary with love and energized with hate.
We skillfully jab at the vulnerable spot on the opponent.
This fighting was the death of me and the only funeral you’ve attended.
What started as a blessing turned into spoiled milk.
The violent dance continues as we swing fists round and round the ring.
You say “Fight!” I say “Die!”