Holy Mother Mary, look in her eyes
Holy Mother Mary, tell me these lies
They're driving me mad
They're making me cry
Preaching me lies to make me feel something
Preaching me lies to make me do something
Trying to manipulate all of my senses
Don't know what reality means with these lies
Don't know who to trust with these lies
Tell me please, is this all a must?
Is it so I don't lose you?
Is it so that I choose you?
To be mine forever?
Why are you changing me every chance you get?
Rolling the dice of my life with every breath
Telling me I can't say this, can't wear this, can't see this person
Holy Mother Mary, am I with a toxic person?
Don't know what to do with this relationship
Trying to tell myself it's not too early
To make up your mind
To change this time
Before you are mourned
Forgotten life, no one wants yours
Tell me these lies
Tell me these lies
Tell me these lies
Please before I die
About the Creator
Inshallah
Istanbul is a city bristling with life, a place where past and present, sacred and profane, intertwine under the watchful gaze of the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. As I explore this crossroads of cultures with Maya, my nine-year-old niece and the daughter of my late brother-in-law Frank, and my wife Nadia, Frank's sister, I find myself on a journey not just through Istanbul's history, but also into the depths of my own beliefs. Staying with Maya and her mother Elvan, my sister-in-law, I begin to see the city anew through their eyes, and to understand why James Baldwin said it "revived" him.
By Geoffrey Philp a day ago in Wander
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