The Black Crayon in the Crayola Box

Life-Lesson #9 Everybody Has a Story A tinge of self-hatred arises when I think about the color of my skin. When I was younger, I was made fun of because of the darkness of my skin-complexion. I remember being nine, … Continue reading

Dancing with the Scars

We are all wearing masks:
Showing up to the show,
Dressed in our insecurities.

The waltz plays,
We hear the music,
The show begins:

The shortest skirt in the room
Twirls in and out of pain,
Seductively seeking attention –
Anyone to lick her wounds.

The largest ego
Swallows down his faults,
While burping up his pride,
Strategically searching for a woman –
A trophy-girl to mask his pain.

Won’t you step out onto the dance-floor?

We are all on stage:
Watching our wreckage put on an act,
Smiling at our emotional bruises,
Dancing comfortably behind our masks.