my
own
broken
fallacy;
collect of tender,
self-witnessed, I graced my false fears.

What is the fib old tape-voices play?

Cunning us out of our dreams,
Despair helpless prey.

Give up!  
Give up,
I whisper breathless;

shall I go on?

ear-screech fibbing
white-lie requiems

gentle choice self
human that you are

perfect imperfections
dancing in sacred grace.

Crooked Little Flowers,
Standing human raw.

paint much love, always,
Connie Karleta Sales
a.k.a. This Crooked Little Flower