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Mary Woods Apr 2021
A musician who plays guitar at 2am,
A writer who writes in a dark room,
A painter who paints in silence,
An actor who rehearses in the mirror,

It is a choice to be an artist?
Or is it a sacrifice to be creative?
Mary Woods Apr 2021
My hands are no longer white,
I don't have bows in my hair or butterflies on my shoes.
When I sleep I no longer dream of blue sky beaches or green meadows.
I am not clueless now, but I wish I was.
Crying when I fell over and scrapped my knee turned into crying over loss and love and hate.  
How I feel so much more than I used to.
Walking in the park and feeding the ducks, I remember holding my mothers hand,
but I cannot remember the last time I did.
I am not innocent anymore.
As i've grown everything has became more complicated.
I've been taught how to live in this world but i've not been taught how to cope with that.
What do we do when we become lost,
A perilous maze of despair we spend days, weeks , years trapped inside.
There is nothing we can do as we're not taught peace.
Its like the adults are afraid to discuss peace of mind, afraid that we will achieve it before them.
We grow up experiencing different types of fears.
Monsters under the bed to one day fearing death, and everything else in-between that.
Standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing full well if u take one step forward you'd fall.
Its that knowing that death is always there that scares me the most.
I could die tonight. Or tomorrow. So what's the point in fearing death?
I've had my brain be manipulated by to many ideas. Listened to people preach what they think life is, it's not gave me enough room to question it myself. No ones mind is ever blank though; like a seed we water to grow into a plant our mind has been developed only by the words of others before us.
I was once white. I once was transparent. I was once a child.
I am no longer innocent.
I'm not blindfolded anymore.
From a seed to a tree to one day...Earth,
I shall be reborn into innocence again.
  Apr 2021 Mary Woods
her eyes would go
to all sorts of faraways
body, mind and soul disconnected
yet merged into the perfect embodiment
breathing in a world filled with plastic and insincerity
behold are her hands that work wonders and as her words of pure,
she is the clearest vast of ocean and slate you will ever come across to witness

a flower amongst a field of defiled individuals
she is, if not, the closest to perfect

Mary Woods Apr 2021
I've done nothing today. At 5:00pm I make coffee. I decided I needed a cigarette so I sat in the garden and smoked. Once i'd finished the cigarette I lay down on the grass. Pale blue skies and birdsongs. I thought about what I could've done today wrote a poem maybe, or a song. Instead I wondered around the house and sat in different places. At 5:30pm I got my laptop and decided to write this, at leased I did this today.
Mary Woods Apr 2021
glass eyes
hallow head
empty moments
none left

lean over
heartfelt fears
loss of innocents

ice cracking
sky from the ground
reaching for nothing
no sound

glass eyes
reflect moonshine
still water
frozen in time.
Mary Woods Feb 2021
what makes a man hate
who took away everything
left him with nothing or no-one
that he fell grater and further
then everyone else

what is art
can you be shown
will we ever feel it
exactly how its mean't to be felt
or are our minds to clean?

what does it take
but years of pain
surviving on
pen and paper medication

nothing is more beautiful
then the artist
nothing is more complicated
then him

live a day in the life of
use the hands
look with the eyes
feel how it feels
can you feel pieces of you die?

without this what will they be?
waking up each morning
not for himself
for you and me

each day they splinter
with every idea
with every movement
with every word
comes a piece of them

nothing is more beautiful
then the artist
killing themselves
so we can feel like were living

chipping away
at that hate inside
breaking off pieces
to remake something of value

but what happens when there is nothing left?
when every piece is gone
he has disappeared
leaving behind
Mary Woods Feb 2021
how many days until
the end
for my love with you there will be
no end
when I feel sour
I always feel sweet
with thoughts of you
good ones
the bad ones are like a pain
venereal disease
when I think about us
dancing in the kitchen
remember that
lock it up safe
throw away the key
keep me there
my body is yours
when we sleep
I don't want to wake
noses touching
staring into your eyes
these glass mirrors
reflect myself
in a still glaze
relieved of the world
that's how I feel
carelessly numb
regaining your strength
from my own
lost in weakness
you disarm me
today we love
tomorrow's war can wait
dreading the day
waking without you
how much I would have lost
withered fragile
missing my purpose
loving you
a stolen gift
means the same
as giving yourself
take sanctuary
give up the barricade
let me
surrender me
your blackbird
waiting for you
lie next to me
touching hands
looking at the ceiling
this is everything
i've learnt peace
in him
and in myself
tell me enough
i'll believe it
when you ask me
if I love you
I say yes
ask me if I'm happy
know me like I know you
catch me
i'm falling fast
let go
the knife
in your hand
let go
the gun in my own
we hold these
not for ourselves
for each other.
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