Scribbling Trix Tricia ”Trix” Johansson
Digital sketch book and poetry scribbles






































































































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
What begins with lies It begins with lies
prepared with flaws
The spaced thoughts flies
what's left just dies.
The beginning
was unfortunately the end
I wouldn't spend
A thought
with no chance of winning.
The eternal pain
is gone by wishing
I can't complain
I'm held back with a chain.
Back to the start
the beginning of lies
But even if it dies
I will remember in the heart.
Broken and gone
Trashed and wrong
I won't wait to long
To hear the spaced thought's song.
I wish I could end
what begins with lies
Thoughts; they always flies
I don't want to spend
The eternity in hell,
all the partial smell
I can already tell
this won't end well.
Autumn sun I can feel it in my hands
All kinds of colors
Shapes and forms.
Made by both monsters,
and humans,
Made by us all
Sometimes in the
Autumn sun
You can see 'em fall.
Sometimes I can
hear the sound
of a hymn
All kinds of shades
Made by both humans,
and monsters,
Made by us all
Sometimes in the
Autumn sun
You can see 'em fall. 
The internal The internal conclusion
of what’s happening inside
is confusion
and I’d be the dying bride
The confusion,
the names it throws at me
The conclusion,
the fact that is obvious to see.
I’m not me, but still not you,
I’m not free to be compared to what you do.
I’m not the one, and you cannot choose it
We cannot run, and you will lose it.
The conclusion will be.
The internal emotions,
for the sake of feeling
I despise it, why not put them in the ceiling?
I do wrong, I’m confused,
I’m just hold, beaten and used.
The internal conclusion,
of what’s happening outside,
Is the inner confusion,
which I’m forced to hide.
I wonder I wonder
what you're going
to do
When my ghost
is in front of you.
I wonder
what you're going
to say
When my ghost
suddenly blocks your way.
I wonder
what you're going
to see
When the odd one
is over me.
I wonder
what you're going
to do
When my ghost
is in front of you.
I wonder
what you're going
to hear,
I wonder
what you're going
to see.
When you'll realize
the ghost isn't me. 
In the light of the full moon The barely visible moon
A misty, dark night
the extraneous light
is slowly coming to sight.
I'd look at it
with an interested mind
Only one of a kind,
Oh, I must be mentally blind.
I'll carefully hit
the bottom line
It's fully mine
The moon is now lit.
I cannot sit
here and define
What's up with what's mine
I fell asleep, this is it. 
Value Anything for you
There is nothing
compared to you
The light
The dreams
In our eyes
There is nothing
of value
We were kissing
I held you
Females
In the universe of
feelings
Anything for you
Everything
I do
It doesn't mean anything
In the end
the only of value
Were the feelings
My own
feelings
Which were never
truly responded
Don’t care to speak I know I'm cold and weak
C0ld, and I don't care to speak
I would like to fly
but not like a bird
die
no that's not a lie.
Speak up!, you'd say,
do yourself a favor,
just in any way.
I know I'm cold and weak
wherefore I don't care to speak
It's almost
like playing hide and seek
If this game wouldn't be
in a total of an internal streak.
Of pain
that will gain
a serious amount of shame
Out of the blue
due to the two.
Do yourself a favor
do not play hide and seek
because in hide and seek
you're not supposed to speak. 
The mind is set on pause mode The cabinet is half-open
Perhaps not open to it's half,
Perhaps just somewhat opened;
Like a solid part
of what mostly seems insane
Opened enough for you to notice
I'm not here
Probably I'm in the goblet,
in which the souls of the dead creatures are
Goblet:
Created out of weakness
You'd said
Not in those words
But close enough my flaws
The defect of the soul;
Like it's sold to this stranger
The one - that one
Whom talking
She's singing - the voice is the hymn
of an insane
Fewer flaws
Wouldn't help me out
Now
The mind is set on pause mode
The cabinet is closed
Very closed; barely unspeakable
You'll see
The every secret thing
The remains
Wisdom - thoughts worth repeating
Outstanding knowledge
What you'd do in a case of this sort
Unfortunate occurrences
They'd show their faces
even to the most fortunate 
Called by the name 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 
Words spelled in silence Out of the blue
Able to think about blue eyes
And blue water
Able to hear
Words that were spelled in silence.
No matter what you can see
Listen to yourself
Towards the belief
Of the words
that were spelled in silence.
Out of the blue
Completely out of place
My character, the spirit slowly changing
Because of the words
that were spelled in silence. 
Him He was covered in scars
but had enough teeth
he had diďŹƒculties sleeping
and very small feet.
He was kind as a flower
naive as a child
strong as three horses
but have never gone wild.
Cleverness was a skill he never had
he is somehow always in trouble
it starts to make him mad.
Humble and kind
isn't always enough tools
Before; he was the good spirit
now; he is just like us; fools.
He used to be strong
he used to do what's right
he is no longer as before
other people made him fight.
Now when he's gone
we know what we've done
it's always too late for this song
Only God knows what went wrong. 
The reason behind a falling tear I listen to the sound
of the wind,
the rain and the trees,
and the life was somber.
I think the understanding
may appear,
behind the reason
of a falling tear.
A girl listen to the sound
of her friend,
the somber eyes,
whimsical thoughts.
She thinks the understanding
might appear,
behind the reason
of a falling tear. 
Copyright Tricia ”Trix” Johansson Published 2019 All rights reserved I hope you enjoyed my book and my scribbles as much as I did when I created them.