lock and key
jumps with joy
back to the hole
the hermit mind
drawn to nothing
we sit atop giants
that soon become ourselves
imitating the rest of society
time and again placed on bookshelves
inspiring to conspire the world
losing amidst crowds of equivalents
yet again the mistakes repeat
please, play that track of ambivalence
I need to feel loved and understood
to thrive in ways that nobody could
without such means, I’m lower than all
a dark pit of doubt and a constant fall.
I wonder what it’s like to die
as your last breath shatters the room
did you feel the pain, did you drift away
like a carnival child’s balloon?
was it your destiny for us
to be crying and screaming at the sky
as your body laid limp in her arms
as I told my brother you’d died?
and the flowers surround the house
wilting away in our pain
for the sky is turning black
as I declare myself perfectly sane.
There is something so beautifully enchanting about a flame.
Maybe it is the vivid array of colours. Maybe it is the power it holds.
Yet, I believe what draws me to it is the constancy.
It just burns. It keeps burning. It dances about, yet it still burns.
It stays in that one place if you let it.
It knows that it has potential.
When it receives the chance to grow, it leaps up at it with arms open wide.
It needs fuel to burn, and it shall keep burning with a consistency that can beat no other.
A flame without fuel is as good as a hot summer’s day without water.
Please hold on tight to your fuel.
For a person without a love for anything will amount to nothing.
my inspiration strikes deep, dark, late at night
when my thoughts come out to play and threaten to bite
a plague of words and a shallow, stolen tear
writing out on paper while the music drowns my fear
the inspiration is useless as it’s all for nothing
hoping one day, midnight dreams will amount to something
no talent, just love, and a need to give
to those losing any sort of hope to live
lost in their minds, an endless maze
a whisper of a lie and sent in a craze
“you’re fine, you’re better” screams the wind aloud
as you’re swept away and lost into the sound
reassurance for a weakness that’s leading aside
your hopes and dreams that are willing to hide.
they all say dreams come true
well please allow me to stop dreaming of you.
It hurts me to put this polaroid away
The captured memory of a happy day
But the weather is now bleak and so are our hearts
Misplaced the sisterhood we swore would never break apart
The hope I possess is fading into white
Where everything looks the same, alone and bright
Bright beams of light reflect all of my mistakes
The goodness in myself the light is there to take
And at the end of the day all I can see
Is the smallest amount of worth glaring back at me
The worth I trashed with my actions and words
The worth I worked hard to find, both mine and yours
Now all of it is empty, filled with regrets
Of the way I acted and my ever growing debt
So I slot the polaroid into a book that nobody has seen
Hoping to be reminded of what we shared and where we have been
The places of happiness, the joy, and the tears
And the way that you helped me conquer my fears
Remembering how special you were to me
Now a misplaced friendship, lost out at sea
falling to your death from a plane
a beautiful tragedy which all looks the same
another bouquet of flowers to rot
another person who ‘cares’, truly not
tears falling freely from the sky
another day, another dismal life
falling, yet flying to a release
a life full of badness finally ends in peace
peace from those screams at night
the ones that hated you glorify you in light
does death really have to be the start
the start of love within their hearts?
the air felt intoxicated, swirling around his face
it was tense and silent and it felt like a desolate place
doing normal errands, not thinking about the news
holding back from his children, as they were too precious to lose
his eldest daughter noticed how quiet it had been
tried to figure out what at the doctor he had seen
her mind spun around, of confusion and how long
but she knew in her heart something was very wrong
she grabbed his hand and forced him to sit down
the worried look in his eyes settled in with a frown
and as he mumbled those words to her, he didn’t pretend
the tears glistened in his eyes as he wasn’t sure of the end
“it’s back” he said, and encircled her with an embrace
she was crying as she didn’t want to see her father in pain
now tears that swam over these weeks were no longer alive
just as cold as his body in february
just as cold as our hearts in february
just as dead as our souls in february.