You can't recycle wasted time
You can't fix mistakes
You can only make amends
Mistakes come with time
Mistakes come with love
You write your future
Mistakes rewrite your future
You can make amends over time
Mistakes will last
Time will not
Time is limited
But there are infinite possibilities on how you use it.

All the silence does not mean
You are alone,
It is the world waiting for you
To listen;
And in the darkness you are
Found by the light
Of your hope.

And in the tears of your
Pain you are born,
There you become stronger
And it creates order.

Pick up your flesh as your spirit
Lifts,
And speak your happiness
As if the tip of your tongue
Was the mountain's peak
Speaking at the sky,
The burden is a caged bird
And only the conscious can set
It free.
And sing to yourself so that
You know you are never alone
In your body.

Know that your crazy is beautiful
Because it makes you YOU,
Wear your skin like
Your cozy blanket and cuddle
In the warmth of yourself.
     You are not broken,
But scattered like the night
With pieces like stars shining,
    Open your pain and yourself
To the wound of the world and heal
Whatever you choose.

Have you ever been madly in love?

The old man broke my reverie.

On the long faded green bench white with bird droppings
he was peering at me through his silver grey beard
looking oddly out of place in that college squire park
where only the dreamers at the prime of youth
would sit between classes to exchange love notes
and steal a kiss when the passion couldn't be reined in.

Have you ever been madly in love? he repeated,
and then as if growing impatient by my silence
mumbled, pausing between words,
like they stung him like thorns
it extracts a price been paying all my life
living with a void no other woman could fill
a commitment that breeds only pain
yet makes me insanely boastful
of being madly in love.

It was recess hour and the benches were being filled up.

How many, I wondered, would still hold hands
when the classes are over.

Oh how far my eyes can see,
moonlight and stars after sunset,
Oh but, how blind I've been,
to see this world as happy.

With every mind introduced,
every being I meet,
all the stories they have told,
and all the pain that they share.

Every smile and wave,
from the people in the street,
all wane when out of sight,
because all hide discontentment.

Happiness is not a state of mind,
it's a drug freely given when conditions are right,
it's a chemical so organic and pure,
and in such short supply.

We are worriers,
we are prey,
we are victim.

We did not come to exist in a happy world,
we were born from one of hunger,
where hunters stalked the night,
where big cats and wild dogs took us if we grew weak.

Without disease, war and famine,
what else do we have to fear.

Adrenaline pumps,
endorphins race across chasms,
its not cynicism, its synaptic.

In a world free from outside forces we grow to fear whats inside,
depression is not new, it is vital,
we evolved to be scared,
but we have nothing left to be scared of,
so we fear our own humanity,
because it's all that's left.

The day I was born,
I lay in your arms, too young to smile up at you
My eyes still black, you called me Lucifer
but they faded to the purest blue

Father, I was so fond of you
and 'Da' was my first word, how proud were you
when you heard me say it from my tiny drawn lips
And now I dare not to breath your name

I was just an angel in the presence of God
and from heaven I was sent home, sent here
You cut my wings and let me fall
but forgiveness is not something I'll ever ask for

You appeared to me as something else,
a chauffeur without a hat or taxi sign
a bank with a voice that spoke of favours
You feel I'm forever in debt to you

But money is not a substitute for love,
Nor are conversationless car rides in the dark,
You're a God and I'm just a girl
who called you "Daddy" in quotation marks

I met a mysterious man
It was love at first sight

Thought he was charming
Things weren't quite right

He spoke to me romantic
Pure seduction in my eyes

I loved the way he kissed
It taste of such sweet lies

He gazed deep to my soul
He said I was perfection

Yet it was not me he spoke
But to his own reflection

He was a man so confident
Sure no one could disagree

So naive I was for thinking
That you could ever love me

Now I find myself silenced
A little lost book in a shelf

A Narcissist can not love
Except their beautiful self

I can't remember when you left,
It seems you were always leaving,
into the night, behind feathered trees,
and when the rain hit you,
you pretended you didn't feel anything

"I don't want to talk about my dad," you'd say
That unholy narcissist left bruises on you,
that you hid from us all

I wish you'd said your mother was a villain ,
who tried to send you to heaven,
but only succeeded in making you bleed;
a memory that resurfaced,
as the devil's stigmata,
on your wrists

You're the girl in a coma,
and have been since I met you,
who fell in love with her doctor,
the day she almost died

Her am I wondering,
are you alive?
Or are you a ghost,
haunting Christ Church,
continuing to do the only thing
that made you happy

I'm sorry you're gone,
your phone ringing out,
your profile a tombstone

I wish I could go,
go to your home
and ring your doorbell
without the fear of being told,

The girl in a coma has left,
not behind the trees,
into the dark,
but to the place her mother tried to send her,
not long after she took her first breath