but, oh, my dears
nothing has changed
not really
the new world
is just
the old world
without the mask
and, so, my dears
you must change
and really
it’s only when
the magic is gone
you learn to make your own
-Stregamoria, 2025
the clock
has struck midnight
in sepulchral tones
and we are stranded
at this crossroads
with a pumpkin and his rats
as a cold wind
tears at these tattered rags
we once called dreams
our glass slipper
now heirloom proof
of class rebellion
(pass it down) 👇🏻
Nothing to see here, just testing out a tool for crossposting to social media accounts.
