Only time will tell me
which were mistakes and which were the future
because every time I think of the past
I feel like a Catholic
I will create nothing out of something
and wear it like a scarf,
bleeding through the holes in the universe.
There were never any reasons
there was never a soul to the problem.
But I look through my past and see mirrors
and remember the fairies
and think of the good times
and the bad
and I wonder where I was during all of this.
Only the witch-girl can tell me
and I lost her some time ago
and I wish I could hold her hand
even though it is small and not very strong
it is enough
to move on.