Night time; the foxes dance in the pale moonlight,
with their beautiful black eyes shining bright.
The wolves howl towards the night sky,
singing a sublime song through each and every cry.
Owls hidden in the swaying forest trees,
watching out for their prey, solemn and at ease.
This is the wild and it's a beautiful place,
one that humans should learn to embrace.
- cowritten with Maddison Perry (9 years old)

The irony of the words you say - "I think I'm losing my mind."

Because how on earth can you think when you've left your sanity behind?

A bloodstream full of tragedy,
I'm a walking travesty.
Bones created out of despair,
I often wonder whether I'm beyond repair.
A mind full of sadness and skin full of poison,
the desolation within me has arisen once again without reason.

Butterflies fluttered while your lips brushed against my cheek as you said your last goodbye,
as you left me for the last time and left me yearning for the answer to the burning question "why?"

She ran as fast as her brittle legs would allow
without catching her breath once as she ran miles somehow.
And she reached her favourite bench overlooking the countryside
surrounded by swaying trees and an air of grace as she sat and cried.
There's creatures in her mind that won't allow her to think clearly;
the belief she should go beyond the veil plays on her mind severely.
So she swallows a bag of pills washed down with strong tequila,
and stands upon the bench with her earphones in, dancing like a ballerina.

I was a puppet and you were my master
pulling my strings and controlling my acts, I was set up for disaster.
You moulded my identity and sense of self with your foul abuse,
every day that you'd force yourself upon me was a fight I'd always lose.
You took from me my individuality and my innocence too
and placed despondency in its place with my childhood falling through
but I am not fully broken and you no longer have control over me
and I am rebuilding myself back up and better I will be.

How liberating and freeing it is after months of despair
to be overtaken by your old self once more out of nowhere;
to find your spontaneity and find yourself overcome with valour
to finally get up and battle your demons head on with great strength and ardour.

The shadows of my despondency continuously dart
between the dark crevices of the forest born in my mind
with the river of thought flooding violently, tearing me apart
and drowning me unhurriedly as it sweeps me under, most ill-timed.

Her words are boa constrictors causing detrimental suffering and sometimes even death,
with her victims crying themselves to sleep every night, hyperventilating with every breath.
Her raining punches feeling like a thousand needles piercing their flesh time and time again,
her victims wonder why they get up each morning just to suffer the same pain.
Her poisonous taunts run through their bloodstreams and haunt their minds;
and lead some to scar their bodies and others to perish entirely leaving their family behind.

I feel every emotion too deeply; they're a dagger to my heart,
and I'm too sensitive - it only takes one tiny trigger for me to fall apart.
Sometimes it feels as though I'm not a real being;
convinced reality is a figment of my imagination that I'm seeing.
I started to litter my body with scars from the innocent age of ten,
I haven't stopped although I am nineteen now - things just haven't changed since then.
I made my first attempt at the tender age of just twelve years old,
and to this day another fourteen have occurred; by this inner demon I'm controlled.
A patient in a psychiatric hospital 6 days after my eighteenth birthday,
after swallowing a cocktail of pills and alcohol wanting to die away.

But...

I am someone with raw passion that flows through my veins
and my curiosity and adoration for the world around me remains.
I have mastered the art of living in the moment and doing the things that matter to me;
and I'm full of devotion and determination to be the person I'm destined to be.
I use poetry as an expression of all that I feel and I am made of linguistic creativity,
and I love deeply without reservation everything and everyone around me.

So although I may have borderline personality disorder as a part of me,
I am still a kind-hearted and passionate person who wants to be the best she can be.

You are first and foremost my mother by genes and DNA,
but you're also my friend, my hero and the light in each day.
You're there when I need you, there is no doubt
and you're the one encouraging me to figure things out.
You're there when I'm sad and when I feel that I can't keep going through this mind war,
you're the reason I keep fighting to get better; you're the most inspiring mum I could ask for.
I love you more than words could ever hope to say,
and I promise I won't give up - I will battle this despondency every single day.

I'm a person;
I am not a meal to be devoured yet they say that real girls have a bit of meat on their bones.
I'm a person;
they may tell me that wearing make up is false advertising but I am not a product to be sold and I am not theirs to own.
I'm a person;
and no matter how many times they whistle at me in the street, I am not a dog who's going to go running to them.
I'm a person;
I am not an object for them to touch, use or abuse whenever they wish to; that behaviour I abhor and condemn.
I'm a person
with as much talent and intelligence as them but I am held back by the glass ceiling in my endeavours.
I'm a person
and I'm determined to reach my goals - I will not be held back by my oppressors.

You were the boy always drinking and high on drugs
and I was the girl always falling for bullies and thugs;
in our toxic relationship you smashed me into pieces time and time again,
yet still I chose your "love" regardless of the torture, abuse and the pain.

Pen in hand waiting to glide across the lined sheet
and yet no blood is spilling upon the page so I admit defeat.
I am void of prodigious literary expression;
my spark has gone and now I must face temporary repression.

And my mind often wanders to think of all those who have the most beautiful souls and the kindest hearts,
and how they're always the victims of the mind who wish they could just breathe their last -
how unfair it seems to me that those who give the most to everything and everyone
are the ones that are the most disconsolate and stuck in a darkness where they can't find the sun.

He's searching for all that will destroy him and everything he knows;
anything that will help him forget the trauma and the surrounding despondent shadows.
First came the shots of ***** and the little white pills he'd swallow each and every day,
then came the self-tattooing of his skin using a thin and sharp silver tip in every which way.
Soon it was the rush of taking an ****** cocktail in the hope of drowning out the violent voice in his head;
and staying in bed for days on end, wishing to be nothing; to be neither alive or dead - but to be a nonentity instead.

So lost within her own madness,
she was addicted to the sadness.
The voices in her head were so violent,
yet she opted to remain silent.
Death crept up on her and whispered callously in her ear,
then encouraged by its words, she took action so as to help the end grow near.

No amount of strong coffee or sleep
can cure my tiredness; it runs too deep.
It’s the kind of exhaustion from lack of exuberance and hope
and a perpetual state of desolation in which I’m unable to cope.
So worn down by life and the trials it brings every single day,
this is not the kind of fatigue that can easily be taken away.

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs so why won't anyone take heed?
Painfully visible yet ignored and pushed aside by all those that I need.
Nobody is listening to my cries asking for help with this despondency
and now I'm drowning in the ocean of despair unable to set myself free
just waiting patiently for the grim reaper to come and claim me as his own
so I can go beyond the veil and enter the dark abyss full of the unknown.

A little girl grew up too fast
drowning in secrets of the present and past.
Left with scars both visible and unseen,
voiceless and powerless to stand up and be who she should've been.

People pick me for my resemblance to the sunshine;
attracted to the brightness I could bring to their lives and my precious design.
But as soon as my colours fade, my petals wither and I'm no longer warm,
I am dropped and left to slowly drown in a secret thunderstorm.

I miss the days of my toothless grin where I found everything funny.
I miss my big blue eyes being full of light and hope, and believing in Santa and the Easter bunny.
I miss my wild, curly blonde hair au natural,
before I cut, dyed and straightened it to fit in and feel beautiful.
And I miss the days of innocence where I trusted everyone and wore my heart on my sleeve,
before I met the callous people of the world and found that in goodness I could no longer believe.

You were the Venus flytrap enticing me in,
and once you'd imprisoned me; everybody knew it would begin.
I was only a flower with petals so withered,
I'd die at the hands of you, everybody figured.

The simple whisper of the word "commitment"
can make men and women run in an instant
without one look back at the broken pieces they've left,
you were no different and so my heart became your theft.

You repeatedly vociferate that you're not ready to settle down; not ready to grow up,
but in my heart I know you're lying to my face close up.
I know you'd settle if you found the ideal inamorata tomorrow,
but I'll never be "the one" for you so I will leave now and drown in sorrow.

I saw the burning embers in his eyes,
the light produced could fill a hundred skies.
He's a natural wonder in my world
I thought as the galaxies in his eyes swirled.

I notice the dimples in the corner as he smiles,
and my heart tells me - for him I'd walk miles.
I told myself I'd never fall in love,
but as I watch him laugh; I realise it's him whom I'm in awe of.

It's the way he talks about his passions,
that makes me feel this mixture of emotions.
The way he hums, the way he reads a book,
I can tell I love him - it only takes one look.

The way his eyes crinkle as he laughs silently,
makes my heart flutter and my stomach beat wildly.
The way our hands become entwined
makes me feel free and well refined.

The way our lips meet?
Nothing can compete.
Fireworks and universes explode between us
and the feeling they brought to me? I can never discuss...

Like a child
I need to be protected from the monsters that only I can see
Like a child
I need to be held closely when all my nightmares come to be.
Like a child
I need to believe in everything and to be believed in too
Like a child
I need someone to be my comfort blanket so I can make it through
Like a child
I need to be told I'm loved and cared about every day
Like a child
I must be reminded that everything is going to be okay.

Eyes glued shut with residue of tears, not wanting to wake,
fresh tears fall drip drip drip with a body and heart full of ache

Into the darkness I further fall
laying in bed now staring from wall to wall,
my head cloudy, confused and detached;
I've made little red oceans where my skin has been scratched,
and I can't decipher reality from my delusions;
the dark crevices of my mind crawling with daunting illusions.

All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved the way I love everyone and everything around me,

And perhaps that is the most dangerous thing of all because to crave that affection with all your heart

Leads to reckless acts and treacherous situations to gain that attention and warmth that you’ve wanted all along.

Bugs are crawling all over my hands; yet they're the kind only I can feel and see -
the germs I visualise as cockroaches covering everything around me.
A 3rd change of clothes in 5 hours to protect myself against their power to bring me harm,
my umpteenth hand wash trying to get rid of them; my brain turbulent with alarm.

My head is noisy; full of chaotic sadness and voices,
peculiar images and blurry characters are all I can see - not by choice.
I cannot sleep or think let alone live,
waiting for The End; I went mad with the battle so determinative.

Sitting on the shower floor
with the water raining down on me more and more.
A map of water induced wrinkles trace my skin as if by disguise,
with a river I cannot stop running from my eyes;
intoxicated with madness, these voices I need to **** -
so with a bottle of ***** I wash down a pretty little pill.

Tonight I lay with just my teddy to hold dear; loneliness creeping in - no doubt,
feeling like a child who just wants to be loved and cared about,
wishing to be protected from the monsters inside my head
as I bury myself under my covers and cry myself to sleep in bed.

You fell in love with my crimson petals so fragile,
and the way I'd laugh as I danced around the room so agile.
Though you could not handle my treacherous thorns incredibly aculeate
which could cut you like a knife in the blink of an eye; a particularly mad trait.
Always so willing to thrive upon my kindness and my nature of a good heart
but never could you deal with the madness that came within every time I fell apart.

Intertwined silhouettes in the evening twilight,
the wind causing the raindrops to fall erratically in spite.
Your kiss, an everlasting promise and each drop of rain in all its glory
is a beautiful note in the symphony of our love story.

Moonlight; just enough to illuminate the silhouettes creating the forest -
just enough to help the sky glow; a black ocean freckled with stars, so modest.
With tiny chimes in the distant wind of the flickering trees
signalling the beat of pure white galloping hooves heard over the silent breeze.
A myth? Perhaps. Or, more believably, the strength of the woodland?
She casts a playful spell upon us all with her charm easily, as if planned.
Wild and free, full of purity and innocence; she brings excitement  
and is a reminder to never grow up but stay full of enchantment.

The lily of life, full of humility and devotion - the beautiful kind
that everyone would choose to pick from the fields I think you'll find.
One who defied the definition of a heroic inspiration,
your talent outshone all others; you caused quite the sensation.

You tenaciously grasped onto your stem of life
with the insidious poison of demise within your cells rife,
your colours darkening and fading away,
and yet you remained God's most beautiful creation each and every day.

As your petals fluttered down, by your side was your wife
while you heart-wrenchingly closed the circle of your life.
Now, we all shall miss watching you bloom through the days
and we will remember you, forever and ALWAYS .

I wish upon the burning candle;
I pray for this to be my last - another year of despondency I cannot handle.
I wish arduously for nothing but my quietus as I blow out the ember,
and everybody claps without a second thought about what my wish could render.

I hold dear the melody that escapes the ray of sunshine upon our faces all the way from the lungs;
everybody sings the symphonies even though we may speak in different tongues.
It echoes through the hall and makes everybody smile in unity;
the euphony of laughter creates community and is full of beauty.

Overcome with emotion; so compressed
as if filled by a fatal venom on a quest -
a beautiful release founded within circumfusing
my entire soul onto parchment - my secrets oozing.
Art is not my craft - but a lifeline that stops me from fading away;
although I wish not to live, I live to write one more day.

Bottles without their seals or caps - just sitting there,
little foil packets torn open in despair
empty of their contents to make me feel less blue,
leaving nothing in the bottom but white residue.

A pile of poison o' so sweet in a capsule form bundle,
travels down the claustrophobic and murky tunnel,
and sits within the pit of my stomach with it all
drowning in a stream composed of ethanol.

Euphoria sweeps through my veins,
I dance; a ballerina at 4am,
making the very most of my ability
knowing I'll soon breathe my last with docility.

I'm a poppy made of dried metallic blood; bitter,
wilting and fading in a never ending winter,
my lifeless petals falling like brittle carmine confetti so solemn
upon the grass where a newborn papaver rhoeus will begin to blossom.

I am a myth and something that cannot be defined,
ablaze with the fiery heat of a life that has been most unkind.

With a touch of a feather I ignite a match,
wanting nothing more than to detach
myself from the earth that caused my tribulation,
and to cause my own cremation.

Black ash darkening the sky's midst,
I am being kissed
by the scorching blaze of a newborn flame
my last breath unnoticed as the calm overcame.

Rising from the ashes, I am born again,
powerful, exultant, majestic through all the pain.

Maybe it’s the fact that it’s 4:03am
but the ghosts of her past are catching up again.
She wants to forgive herself for the mistakes that she’s made,
but she’s her own worst critic and she thinks of all those she may have betrayed.
Tonight her sadness is her blanket and guilt is her insomnia keeping her awake,
and her tears are drowning her; she’s breaking down, there is unfortunately no mistake.

Every day I sit down and begin to open my soul;
I bleed out onto the paper in ink; feelings becoming less whole.
But oh, what a beautiful release from within.
The secrets are out, no longer buried beneath my skin.

She was so lovely but then she changed.
The cards her life dealt her made her deranged.
But it wasn’t the drugs that transformed her at all,
it was the pain and trauma that pushed her to fall.

How sad it is that “all good things must come to an end”,
the idea that moments happen and then cease to exist is difficult to comprehend.
So go outdoors and watch the sunset, go to the beach and watch the tide recede,
sit down with your favourite book and begin to re-read,
take these evanescent moments and turn them to wonderful memories,
with a heart full of belief and reverie.
All safe in the knowledge that the circle of life will return once more,
in future fleeting moments, when we need it most; and knowing once again you will soar.

Females and males are one in the world,
although that is not the belief that has been furled.
We are told that one gender is better than the other,
it seems it's just one stereotype; one after another.

Equality can become realised if only we believe
and take the initiative to take action and achieve.
Why shouldn't men and women be treated the same?
To have equal rights and equal pay, that should really be our aim.

Men, gender inequality is your issue too,
although you may not agree, I'm afraid it is true.
You should have the right to express your emotions and be what you please,
You should not be pulled back by stigma, but instead be who you are at ease.

Instead of fighting, we should be pulling together,
and make this journey a joint endeavor.
We are of equal value if only we open our eyes,
at the heart of change is where we become most wise.

Now or never? If not us then who?
the interest in this movement must come through.
Equality is not a privilege but a human right,
all genders on the spectrum should be able to shine bright.

The tip is a silver thread
but the ink is red
gushing like a waterfall
through the lines vertical and horizontal.
Ink blots and splatters staining all that which surrounds it
a wave o' sensation running through the veins; the feeling of which you are an addict.

I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.

Your eyes used to twinkle as you found something funny,
but now they are dead and you barely smile, honey.

You used to dream the impossible and had hope in your heart,
but I've seen the way the world broke you - now destruction is your art.

You couldn't be protected from the evil presence,
so you escape reality with the drugs that give you pleasance.

You used to cry when you grazed your knees on the floor,
but now you don't even flinch when you cut your wrists to the core.

You used to ask why people would want to die,
but now you understand all too well as you lay in bed and cry.

You used to pretend tic tacs were medicine as you popped them on your tongue,
but now you sit with hundreds of pills in your hand wondering whether life is worth it; you're only young.

You used to be full of life and enjoyed most of your days,
but now you're dead behind your mask and you're always in a daze.

He may have won the last eleven battles as you tried to end your life,
but I am telling you that you will win this war this time and above him you shall rise.

I miss the little girl you used to be,
you're now just a shell of who I used to see.

Someone moves like a python striking prey,
someone screams at the top of their voice moving away,
and suddenly it's as though I'm back to you and me,
and I relive all the things you'd do to me.

Someone brushes me by; touching my skin,
and a friend kisses me on the cheek with a friendly grin -
but I flinch violently; scared of what might happen, evergrowing eerier
because you used to leave not kisses but bruises laced on my exterior.

Someone is drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey
not caring about his actions which really are rather risky.
And I'm reminded of you and the way you used to drink
and how you'd blame It for the way you'd throw my head against a wall with a clink.

Someone spills wine onto the floor without a care,
but all I can do is panic and stare,
because had that been me when I was with you,
I'd have been your punchbag every waking moment - you know it's true.

A burning flame flickering,

an emerald colour shimmering,

with a smell of earth and trees;

and on my fingers is the soft feel of wax melting with ease.

Another night of overthinking,
unable to sleep with all the sinking
into the darkness fuelled thoughts that cloud my mind -
the mistakes of the past I cannot leave behind.

Another morning of oversleeping - so free,
desperate for the temporary state of nihility,
wanting to remain safe from the world around me,
just call me a reality escapee.

Once again it's a new year where we become the writer of the book of our lives,
and this time there are 366 blank pages to write in when each and every day arrives.

This is the year that you finally focus on just you -
and concentrate on things that make you euphoric too.
Make your dreams and chase them with passion;
realise you have the power to make them happen.

The stars will align in the sky for you my dear,
and your courage will see you through any fear,
you will be stronger and more carefree,
and be the you that you deserve to be.