Socra Mama

  It’s dicey, But it’s very real, And without words, The way I feel Is: So good it’s scares me. And when the curtains are raised tomorrow Wi...

  With a tremulous hand, The artist penned The stained glass patterns of the butterfly, But each painful stroke Gave definitive personality ...

  I find there’s something a bit degrading about putting on makeup The subtle message we send to ourselves that says We’re not enough More i...

  What if every life is a research assignment, Crossbred with a game? Our goal is to win, And to win we are challenged to find out as much a...

  Why are you hitting yourself   Hitting yourself  Hitting yourself  Why you keep hitting yourself  A sordid little game That adolescents pl...

  I read the letter again today, The letter telling me to Pray, Morning, noon, and especially, at night. The olde style cursive writing Scra...