Everything will get better with time,
In a year or a decade some fate will decide
What's good in your life and how you will struggle
The people, the places, the tears that form puddles.
Even though right now, we may struggle to breathe
To devour oxygen like animals, to know what we need
The confusion, the worry, of what we should do next
Of how to proceed with our next gentle steps
Our minds are not clear, but that may soon change
When the fates decide, on what's next in our game.

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.

We can learn so much from a note,
Anything the writer desires.
Between family, friends and those you quite frankly never want to recieve a note from:
'Pick up some milk'
'Thank you'
'See me after class'
The emotions such few words can make humans feel
No more than a sentence can leave you with warmness, content
But sometime these few words make you fear the worst.
A note can be the tipping point
A cross-roads.
A note can be used to change the course of your life

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.

The collection of water,
Drip, drip, dripping rain
In a leaky, creaking house.
The droplets patter against pans,
Like clockwork, a metronome of weather.

Minutes turn to hours, the single beat,
Now a symphony.
Drip, drip, drip
Slowly stops as night fades to day
In a leaky, creaking house.

Heavy anchor,
Weighing me down.
The pounding in my ear
Slowly surrounds me in darkness
A darkness that drowns me.

Terror in the darkness,
Snakes wind their way across walls.
There's a spotlight, slowly closing in.
A child stood as the light grows scarce
That little beam of light, of hers,
It will slowly fade away
And those snakes that wind across the walls,
Slowly steal the light away

There's a panic
A pause
Heartbeat, faster faster
Wide eyed, caught in headlights
Frozen
Time stops
How is everyone else moving?
You stop.
Da dum, Da dum
Faster faster
It never stops
Faster faster
You slip
Deeper deeper
Now something else moves faster faster
Drip drip drip
Time stops
You stop
Everyone moves faster

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.

The clock ticks closer to the twelve
And as the seconds count down you know,
This is it.
As the second hand touches the twelve there is a silence.
The silence you find at a funeral
And it is like a funeral, isn't it?
Mourning when you were surrounded by friends, not even hours ago
You know it'll never be the same, but you don't' want to know
How your life has changed, turned inside out.
The exam is now over, you've missed what was said
You feel numb and feel weak
But your heart feels like lead
The scrape of chairs across the gym floor
And it hits you, this isn't your school any more.

Soft ivory,
Smooth under my hands.
Emotion displayed through sound,
Through song.
The unforgettable feeling of peace,
Tranquillity.
Letting go, with closed eyes and an open mind
Storms and sunshine can be created
Opposites with the same maker,
Not the person in control,
But the ivory beneath,
Those dainty, nimble fingers.
That only follow music on a sheet.

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

There lived a girl young and naive,
'Awe' was the word of how the world's seen
She grew and she learned
Still happiness remained
Her joyous shouts, glorious gain.
Still, time went by and ages flew
And now she sees the world all anew
The darkness, the fear, desperation to fit in
With those all around her, who will win?
She's older now and she knows what is true
You don't own the world, the world owns you
Not the dirt or the sea but the people within
We have our place in this world and nobody wins.

As you grow older your life starts to change
Nap time becomes exam time
and I find it strange
How one day your have not a care in the world
But the next you are panicking because of all you've been told
The stresses of life can't be handled by few
So when they are struggling to learn something new.
Remember your life in a small nursery, the chaos it used to  hold
When you can't sleep, turn a light on
You’re never too old to draw with crayons.

Every step, of the way
I'm meant to grow with every day.
Baby steps and bounding leaps
My troubles try to grip my feet
Slowing down, my bounds grow short
Black ink is spreading through my heart
Poison apples I've had a few
My steps have stopped what do I do?

The numbness inside, replaced only with an empty feeling
A smile is sparse, fake,
When friends are near
Some are real; like smiles
Though some are like most smiles;
Fake
Speak softly, hardly heard
That soft laughter at 11am.
A shadow of what used to be,
Gone at 4, when the shadows curl
Chains across my wrists, my neck.
They hold on tightly whilst I sleep, haunting my dreams
My nightmares

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.

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.

Spring creeps into your life,
A child who wants to sneak up on you.  
Slowly you notice a gradient,
Of dreary London grey to brighter greens.
Flowers begin to grow and with their new life comes yours

Spring is when you fall asleep to the pitter-pat of rain
The days stay lighter, longer now,
The darkness is going away and the bees they are buzzing.
Stress of the winter melts like it's snow,
And with spring you have some sort of peace.

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.

The comfort and warmth,
From the brown bark of trees.
An arrangement of letters, books are my disease.
To read and to read until my eyes are weighed down
With stories and poems these words bring around
To read is an adventure, another life beside yours
Another world you can enter, somewhere safe from the storm
That bashes and booms outside of you door.
When it ends, for those final few pages
You mourn.
As another day starts you choose something to read.
An adventure, a terror, a knight in good stead
To whisk you away to a place not your own
In a readers life, you don't have just one home.

The ticking from the wall
Tick tock, tick tock
Slowly counting down the minutes,
That you've waited so long to come to an end.
The hustle and bustle of strangers rushing around you
Whilst you sit in a cocoon of thoughts
And feelings from summers days of the past.
Hear the laughter and glee from memories,
Memories used to fill the hole you have left
Tick tock, tick tock
The minutes are coming to an end now
Soon time will be up,
And as the last tick turns into a bell
Your waiting comes to a stop.

The point of no return.
Time lapses into an infinite stream
Minutes, hours, days
Counting counting counting
Stop.
You freeze, whilst time sprints past you,
Winner of the impossible race.
The horizon is blank and for you,
Time doesn't exist
The emptiness inside begins to swallow you whole
And all the while you think
'I didn't have enough time'

It's hard to put your trust in people
As you wait for them to turn away,
That constant inkling in the back of your mind,
That tells you they'll leave you today.

You surround yourself with 'people you trust'
And try and try to fit in
But that hint of paranoia, the belief nothing can go right
It stays with you forever, in the dark and in the night