I asked my Father when I was young,
"Father I wonder who I'll marry one day"
He used to laugh with his beer belly hanging down, rough my hair,
And tell me
"Son you're a prince, you'll find a princess"
As the night turned I would go to sleep early excited for my dreams night by night
Hoping I would meet my princess soon.

When I was a teenager, I didn't breath a word,
At least most of the time.
On my eighteenth birthday I asked my father after I had a few too many beers,
"When do you think I'll meet that princess"
Whilst my smile was off-centred,
My father looked and said
"One day son, you're a fine man"
I went to go to bed, but my father said
"Son, another beer"
Pain in my voice of too much alcohol probably said it all.
"Erghh, I can't drink anymore"
So I went into my man cave and dozed off.

A few months after my 21st, I was outside,
Sitting on a garden lounger with a fire stick,
Prodding away with a cold beer in my other hand,
As the night progressed we had drank a pub dry,
We sat mesmerised at 3:00am by the flickering flames,
I turn and tell him
"dad, I think I've finally found the girl in my dreams"
And he asked me
"How can you be sure?"
So I replied
"Because, I've nearly drank that whole crate of beer and I don't feel tired, nor do I want to sleep. Because living in this moment, even if she's not here, even with her on my mind, knowing she's mine. That's better than any dream, you've ever dreamt".

I craft words
With imagery
Inside my head,
I weave and I write
As I go along,
Swarming my brain
Like a thousand bees,
The clock hand ticks
Quicker than mine,
So sometimes I run
Off the page and forget
What I was even thinking.

Have I lost the touch
I was given from superior,
Do my views and likes replace
soul that is dripped in my ink,
Because as I write I feel
Every single line,
Like it's my first day at school,
My first love, heart break,
Backstabbers and enemies.

It fills up this empty ink
With fuel, fire and soul,
Designs and pictures
That I paint on paper
No matter how many people
Try stop this tide of words
I sew together with meaning
And life choices.

My emotions are drained
Onto the paper like a sponge,
Along with those tear drops
And for what is to remain
Whether it's good or not,
Everything I write
I feel with passion and pain.