The comfort of a mother’s healing hands,
Hers, to a child, the most appealing hands.
No one can pilfer her attention nor
Claim mommy’s heart like a kid’s stealing hands.
When all hope is lost and your strength is gone,
None console like grandmother’s feeling hands.
A life of wisdom lived without restraint,
Those were great-grandmother’s freewheeling hands.
If your path is clear and life’s light left on,
Thank generations of revealing hands.
Photography: http://fav.me/d8wlw33
You can’t see me crying behind the mask.
You don’t know I’m sighing behind the mask.
Adorned to society’s standards,
For I am trying behind the mask.
I embellish with a painted smile,
Endlessly lying behind the mask.
My performance so believable,
You have ceased prying behind the mask.
The girl you know is a fallacy,
And she is dying behind the mask.
Inspiring image, Colloquium, by baroquedoll on DeviantArt.com
Into the shadows cryptic stairs ascend,
Redemption awaits he who dares ascend.
Foreboding seeps in from the underground,
Mere proximity makes ones hairs ascend.
The despondent throw caution to the wind,
They with their errs, cares and despairs ascend.
Trepidation and hope their chaperon,
They clench the railing, whispered prayers ascend.
The gallant are remunerated when,
Into the darkness their nightmares ascend.
Photography: http://fav.me/d8w8bls
Carrie Mayhem 