The lady confesses: The survival of hope in 2013

It has always been my calling card to roam free. This slippery jewel of self awareness swallows my inherent skill for persuasion. My interlacing of restraint, my wanderlust to engulf to become an all powerful reality of passion; well it finds me lonely. It seems that honest is crushingly undervalued and intimidating. To be crumpled in a room with no one to witness the alchemy of intention, the mystical harnessed in pools of sweat. It has been a long journey in exile as the push for beacons and bridges to the divine plan turns me weary, yet reckoned and always able to endure. My perspective will always reset to outside of me, and these passing glimpses flutters in my mind to rattle the insecurities of a ballooned confidence in a lifetime of praise for this uniqueness that I posses.

I confess there is nothing but bafflement as I continue to fail at finding and maintain a belonging. Does this make me Grimm? NO! Does it delay my feedback NO! But it does cut like glass as I am made of Teflon, tears and glitter.