Welcome to Gaia! ::

There's something about these masks that calls for me
To have so many faces, yet none of them are real
Behind them hides a lady that none can ever see
With nothing but words to show what she feel

The way that I write is not always the same
It changes for whatever feels right
I don't make the words fit in a set frame
But let them so freely take flight

Though often I write just the way I do now
And the reason, I never did know
It's something that feels just right somehow
It gives every sentence a flow

Hello my Darling, didn't you know
That everyone's my muse
From the way your hair does flow
Down to your shiny shoes

Everywhere, I see them dance
My thoughts, they all have faces
I let my mind go through a trance
And show me lovely places

Everything inspires me
Your clothes, the things you say
And everything that I can see
Is for my words a clay

I'll shape it gently with my hands
And make it sound so sweet
So that it rhymes by my commands
And be for you a treat

As dorky as it may now sound
It's only here where I'm around
And though it's sometimes hard to choose
I look for those who feeds my muse

And if someone has been very kind
And I can't get them off my mind
Then maybe I will write them more
For after all, that's what I'm for

So it is true, I lurk around
And watch you all without a sound
I always have them in my sight
For they inspire what I write




And to be a Freak was easy choice
For whenever was I not?
Behind this mask I raise my voice
And share my sweetest thought

It started when I one day knew
My old name was not right
So I changed it before I found you
And found my way to write

For once there was another lass
She was in fact a royal
But after many years did pass
Her writer was not loyal

So another woman had her birth
Forever lonely writer
Fullfil her solemn use on Earth
And turn each moment brighter

I may not be annoyed quite as easy as some
Though there are things that do make me frown
Such as waiting for response that never will come
Or not finding a rhyme for that noun

And indeed there was one thing that did turn me sour
When someone gave my poem a scold
For unkind words do have such a power
To make us all turn rather cold

But I'm quick to forgive and forget as I go
And I rarely can hold to a grudge
For though things may annoy me, isn't it so
That it won't make things better to judge?