The Many Masks of Magzinnia
She goes by many faces, many masks,
You are twirling, dancing movements in the Autumn breeze,
Childlike and whimsical,
Fresh and untainted by the torments of humanity,
The beating down of one’s soul by the familiar and unfamiliar alike,
No, you, sweetest Magzinnia, you wear the mask of Mercy.
The many guises I wear are unmoving,
They will not be lifted by the wind
But weighted by the mists of time and malevolence.
They are ingrained into my soul as one sweeping transgression,
Which only the Almighty will absolve,
Allowing me to once again wear a new mask
Of tolerance and absolution….
by Tina M.E.