My father has a problem.
He listens to all this conspiracy,
whilst drinking a beer or 5 every night.
Instead of spending time with my mother and I.
I've started to dread family dinners as all they do is instil hate in me,
he talks about death and killing and yet knows nothing of me.
My dad doesn't remember my birthday most days,
this year he couldn't remember my mum's.
And I can't live in a house where one occupant stinks of *****.
Where a family slowly starts to break.
My father is an alcoholic,
but the only one who won't admit it is he.

I'm really struggling to find a way to start,
a way to let out what I have trapped inside.
And I'm wondering every moment that I type
how you'll take this confession that my fingers create.
I'm sorry, you know, sorry for the pain this will cause
and the havoc it will wreak upon your life.
And on mine.
I beg you now, before this all comes to light
to not send me to a clinically white room,
full of strangers and a clipboard that might
just destroy my life as I confess what's within it.
I've started to get off topic, I know that much is true
and I'm still struggling to find the words to say to you.
I'm putting it in a poem with artistic license,
so the dread that climbs my throat can be compared
to a monster without me facing a persons laughter.
so that the weight in my veins can be water through a stream
that is slowly seeping and drying away.
I hope that you understand what I'm referring to.
I don't want to say it aloud, I don't want to make it true
but I think the least I can do is to tell you
how the fear and pain eats me up from within.

I'm drowning and I cannot swim.

Dear Autumn,
I feel that with the arrival of you, my favourite season,
I have found myself on a path that I wanted to never again tread.
Whilst your leaves are falling, they do not crunch
like they have in the years that have passed.
And it's started to rain, Autumn. The novel that is my life,
it detests the pathetic fallacy you provide.

Last week your wind forgot me, forgot to fill my lungs
with life and hope and I still struggle to breathe.
I did not shake because of the cold, Autumn,
but because of this cave, full of puppets and shadows and -
Autumn, I am not rooted any more but I'm not free.
And I fall, Autumn, like the rain and like the leaves.

Love
Sweet, sensual.
Giving, hoping, feeling.
Consumes your whole being
*Passion.

Sometimes I don't understand how people string sentences together
In a room full of crowded people, all eyes upon them.
I can only gaze in wonder as they speak,
oozing a certain confidence that I don't possess.
People that have the ability to commandeer a classroom, a captain.
Whilst I stay below deck, hands shaking at the thought of speaking next.

Smart doesn't always mean confident, what I put on paper doesn't translate well when I try to explain things out loud.
Daunting steps to the front of a room, all eyes upon me, strikes fear in me
My arms are lead, notes ready to fall from my hands
The hum of chatter a constant reminder that I am no captain.
I won't ever commandeer a classroom through speech

I can only hope that one day I'll be able to take that walk without my heart pounding a constant rhythm against my chest.
Without feeling like I'm about to have a noose put around my neck.

I've lost my way and I've lost the light,
the beacon of hope that used to shine in the distance.
I don't know what went wrong.
What went right?
But this ache that has started to freeze my soul,
I can feel it, taking control.

This ache that appeared as my shining light dimmed.
Now, as I stare into the mirror, I see.
I see hatred and I see dishonesty and I see ugliness
I see loneliness.
My distorted image that craves touch.
The touch of people that care in a crowded room filled with hope

A hope that was peeled away even as my weakened fingers clutched,
begging for it to never leave me.
Curling away as I curled into myself.
Trying to carry on through the pain and despair that screamed
in my slowly freezing soul.

And when I listen, to the memories of yesterday
I feel, I feel the terror ringing inside of me.
A bell as the hour strikes.
Waiting for a release, I know you don't deserve.
Enough tears have I already spent,
There's no need to cry again.
To spend hours and days mourning
The things you didn't even realize were dead.
Just look at all the pain that surrounds me
That has swallowed me whole during my sleep
I have no control over what's happening-
Where it will eventually lead my soulless corpse.
I'm not okay with my control slipping away
My breath becomes ragged,
As people are starting to question this sudden divide
Between this Pride made up of you and I.
I don't answer as I finally escape the enemy lines
And walk away.