I'm sorry I'm not good enough
I'm sorry I don't get these jokes
I'm sorry I don't know who you're talking about
I'm sorry you have to be friends with me
I'm sorry I'm so clingy
I'm sorry I dump all my problems on you
I'm sorry you have to deal with my 'moments'
I'm sorry I can't help you
I'm sorry you feel obliged to include me
I'm sorry I can't reply right now because of my stupid head
I'm sorry I'm not funny
I'm sorry I pressure you to tell me stuff that's none of my business
I'm sorry I'm so stupid
I'm sorry I'm so insecure
I'm so, so, sorry
I should really help her out
Stop the knife
Before it slices through her neck
Poisons her life
And she bleeds
All over my carpet.
Never mind. I'll help her out some other time.
Let me break down,
At the end of your so kindly outstreched hand,
Let me cry now,
It's not worth if I cannot get back up again,
Just let me go.
Does it matter?
Do I really have to keep on trying?
Have I seen it all?
Is this really everything there is to life?
Let me fall down,
I don't want to take your hand nor need you help,
Let me die now,
At the foot of my immortal endless dreams,
Just let me go.
Oh, what's the point?
Why should I keep on living?
What's the point?
Does it really make a difference if I stay or go?
What's the point!?
Why can't I choose whether to live or die?
What's the point?
Does it matter that I don't know where I am?
Let me run away,
I just want to find a place to hide, now,
Let me fade away,
I just want to be somewhere alone, now,
Just let me go.
Please. Just let me go.
And I will break down and fall down
And cry now and die now
And run away and fade away
Just let me go.
Once upon a time, in a world that looks like yours
there was a girl with
that hung like a banner across her back in a
a sea of sandy metal
that whispered across the air
all the untold secrets of the water and the flowers
and their petals
and when she blinked, her eyes were blue
and if you leaned too close you'd
drown in them
like the hags who tumbled down the wells
and shrieked for help
that no one cared about
because they didn't hear their voice
or see their
ebony locks trailing like abandoned sea **** after them
because they didn't fit into the space the puzzle maker had carved
and couldn't conquer the tedium of difference
and the girl was tugged by hand to go to Church
and her prayers were secret treasures
that trickled from her lips
and tasted like righteousness
each word more crystal than the last
soaked in honey at the tip
and smothered in wonder and glory
and the days as they passed
and they never mentioned the girls she teased
who wore headscarves
that she'd printed with the colours of endless torment
in hues of cheerless and agony
and the girls never told her that
if they took them off
like she begged them to
laughter sprinkled in and stirred
they'd have to show her how much more pain
her jeering caused them
and the girl made mockeries of the unconventional
but that was okay because
their eyes creasing up into slits of derision
in universal agreement
skidding past the true
whims of their heart and growing to
and the eccentric pressed themselves carefully
into the mould of society's
their souls thrashing out in pain and hatred
as they compressed their emotions
and the beauty they found in the strangest of things
into the shell that had been vacated for them
when its previous owner had shrivelled up
and given in
and all the way through life, the girl was beautiful
but she still blew char
over her eyelashes
and stained her lips the post-box red that's found in
first kisses and
scrawled crayoned hearts and
and she made fun of the red that pulsed
in the form of acne on
her classmates' faces
growing their hair out long to cover their pain
until no one could see their shame
and pouring their money into
the collection tins of mass chain stores
of cream and gloop and products
until their faces were marred by make-up
until their mothers didn't recognise them anymore
and they cried
and the girl was thinner and happier than anyone
but because it amused her
her wrists were slit
so her peers doled out their sympathy
and held battles over
who could make her smile first
and she fasted to become thinner
and she collected
four leaf clovers
and her classmates ignored the tender puckered skin
of the children that hacked at
their flesh and
tried to hide it alongside their hurt
and she cackled at the ribs
that seemed to try and burst from their flesh
like hungry mouths were trying to eat
them from the inside out
and they collected things because they feared
what would happen if they didn't
because that was OCD
and when the girl grew up, she married a boy
and he was tall and
his hair was night
and he was handsome in the conventional way that was accepted
the paradisiacal sight of
dainty damsel clutching the arm of the
kind of man she'd read about in books
she'd been infatuated with him before they'd met
and the boys who fell in love with each other were outcast and spat on
their hearts torn into tatters and shredded in machines
by the people who thought they could decide for them
that if they didn't love girls then they'd love no one at all
because in the fairy tales they'd read as young children
they learnt that
prince = princess
and the prince never runs away with the woodcutter
because where would the princess be then?
and the girl still lives on today, in a world that looks like yours
her words a deadly poison
reaping and bleeding
crushing her prey between *******
and showing songs to the ears of the impressionable, young or old
sowing seeds in their brains
that blossom in their hearts
and she is beautiful
and she is terrible
and she is nameless but for the title of
Society’s own child
and she is blameless
for it is the parent
Yay, first poem!
Black and white,
An endless span of grey.
A civilisation or a million,
Living in that space.
Happy and safe,
In their familiar colours.
Unique in their shade,
Living side by side.
They build up and up,
Higher and higher.
They evolve more,
But their world is the same.
And then their world is shattered.
An instant in a lifetime.
They see another colour.
They filled up every inch of their own world.
But there are forever more.
Forever more shades, forever more people to be.
Forever more people to love.
And there is yet more.
There is so, so much more.
They are scared.
How many more colours are there?
How many more will they be responsible for?
They wonder alone,
Their differences suddenly so clear.
They see themselves in a whole new light,
Just a mix of black and white.
And if there is so much more to see,
How is it that they've never known?
That they've always believed that they were safe,
When there are thousands more shades and millions more colours.
And if there is so much more to know,
How is that they've never seen?
That they've lived their lives being fair, including all.
But they only saw one colour.
And they they run.
Because they know they're wrong.
That they've excluded everyone apart from themselves.
And told themselves they had everyone.
And then they flee.
Their tortured souls, their tortured minds.
Because though every colour from black until white is there.
There is never any room for more.
Because the world isn't just in black and white.
And there will always be new colours.
And we cannot ignore them.
I want to write about gold
But I don't know what to say
It's underrated, overstated
So I'll let my words be too
Gold is never looked at
Used as a sign of wealth
To those who do not have enough
For platinum or diamond
And even when it lies
On the fingers of a married couple
It is not the gold that is seen
But the love it symbolises
But used for none
Just laid to rest
As a long forgotten remnant
Of a time that didn't exist
I feel a sympathy for gold
So powerful yet so weak
Never reaching for the stars
Until it breaks free from its own ideals
Gold is a beautful element
And its beauty hides its intricacy
Unappreciated and underrated
Never seen for what it is
In the depths, watching, lurking
Duties to perform, never shirking
Drag them down, to the deep unknown
Drag them down, take their souls
Drag them down, make them pay
Drag them down, while far away
A mother lies
A child cries
For the boy
Oh, so young