Writings


The inner feeling
The inner feeling
In which they are hidden
There's no power of healing
The things that are forbidden

A little, tiny, very small
Peeking through the wall
Short, not very tall
The most whimsical of us all

Power we cannot see
The ghastly things are up for a walk
The prisoners are we
Suddenly we're not able to talk

A dried fiend,
A false end,
At least it can make us understand

All the faces we won't see
All the places in which we cannot be
For all, we can't make ourselves free
- - -
Copyright Tricia Johansson, written 2017.


Called by the name of a queer goth
I'm still the same
Quite whimsical
Still that curious thing
Still the same
Called by the name
Of a queer goth

Clearly the one
Quite disappointing
That whimsical thought
Distinctly dark and somber
Still the same
The one to blame
Wherefore I'm called by the name
Of a queer goth

It's me, you'd see, even before
Peeking through the door,
It's me you are looking for
I know who I am;
I'm aware of it all

Quite hopeless
Still not very amusing
Still the same
Called by the name
Of a queer goth
- - -
Copyright Tricia Johansson, written 2016.



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