Faceless Tales

"This face I wear's not mine. It was given me by life. When I was born, my parents said I had the fairest of faces. But looking at me now, you wouldn't be able to tell." 

"This face I wear's being mine for as long as I can remember. So why then do I feel like a stranger in it? I put it on, I play in it, I laugh in it, I cry in it. It's become a familiar stranger. But then I go home and once there, I take it off. No one need know that I'm faceless." 

"This face I wear's not mine but borrowed. I took it from my last kill and no one's the wiser for it. I had asked him to choose. He made his choice. And so I killed him and took his face. The kids need not know that this isn't their dad. That their dad lies six feet under because I wear his face. And I wear it even better."

Different women, similar stories...

Tales.

Thank God I'm a Woman?

This Poem is loaded with so much Sarcasm, I just had to share. It's by Anna Wickham and is titled "The Affinity". Enjoy.

I have to thank God I'm a woman, 

For in these ordered days a woman only 

Is free to be very hungry, very lonely. 

It is sad for Feminism, but still clear 

That man, more often than woman, is pioneer. 

If I would confide a new thought, 

First to a man must it be brought. 

Now, for our sins, it is my bitter fate 

That such a man wills soon to be my mate, 

And so of friendship is quick end: 

When I have gained a love I lose a friend. 

It is well within the order of things 

That man should listen when his mate sings;

But the true male never yet walked 

Who liked to listen when his mate talked. 

I would be married to a full man, 

As would all women since the world began; 

But from a wealth of living I have proved 

I must be silent, if I would be loved. 

Now of my silence I have much wealth, 

I have to do my thinking all by stealth. 

My thoughts may never see the day; 

My mind is like a catacomb where early Christians pray. 

And of my silence I have much pain, 

But of these pangs I have great gain; 

For I must take to drugs or drink, 

Or I must write the things I think. 

If my sex would let me speak, 

I would be very lazy and most weak; 

I should speak only, and the things I spoke 

Would fill the air awhile, and clear like smoke. 

The things I think now I write down, 

And some day I will show them to the Town. 

When I am sad I make thought clear; 

I can re-read it all next year. 

I have to thank God I'm a woman, 

For in these ordered days a woman only 

Is free to be very hungry, very lonely. 

Life's beautiful...Smile

Photo Credit(s): Vecteezy, Shutterstock.