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.

When he caught you staring he would smile
and say that everything was fine, meanwhile
he hid drawings made by a blade under his sleeves
and had stockpiles of "magic" pills, more than ready to leave.

It wasn't until he departed this Earth that everyone recognised
they should've known he was lying, if only they'd realised
every time that he said he was fine,
he was dying inside; oh so confined.

Think of the true beauty in the world,
where you find that artistry doesn't need to fit expectations that have been furled.

I find mine in captivating laughter of babies; which reduces me to tears,
not those of sadness or melancholy - but of overwhelm as their giggles enter my ears,
because there is nothing more exquisite than the mere notion of existing and of life,
the feelings of love and hope in my heart are strife.

What about beauty in those who refuse to give up, ever?
I often wonder how in the world people grow such seraphic strength within and keep it forever!
They get knocked down over and over again,
yet time after time they get back up, pushing aside their pain.

These elegant people keep moving forward - some have no choice,
but they prove the only way is up and they do not waste their time; instead they have an active voice.
They are inexplicably unstoppable,
and are the true essence of beauty - and are in fact unbreakable.

Or what about the beauty of fate?
The pulchritude of chance encounters await.
That moment when you meet someone special and become star-crossed lovers,
and recognise you both have an exceptional purpose; and a connection that hovers.
A time when your eyes lock and your souls connect?
The magnificence in these bespoke experiences *****.
To share your journey in another's grace,
and get to encounter their beautiful embrace.

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.

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.

Today I introduced myself to my mum again.
Knowing she has no remembrance of me caused a lot of pain.
It’s harder now than ever because with time
She’s lost 98% of her memory and is losing more as the clocks chime.
But I went in and read her favourite book as I held her hand,
and to her I sung her favourite song by her beloved band
knowing it would put a smile on her face
as with love my heartbeat grew quicker pace by pace.
I asked her “may I have this dance?”
And we waltzed around the nursing home garden taking a chance.
I did all this because although her brain is fading away,
She is human and she’s the only one who’s loved me always.
Now it’s time for me to visit and look after her each and every day
so that she’s never alone as the end is on its way.

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.

I looked at the time, it was seven o'clock,
we were having a party and I was in my best frock.
We were partying away - my friends and I -
dancing around in the moonlit sky.

Drinking away I was starting to feel funny,
when my friend Harry said to me "come in, honey".
Drunk, I followed - I trusted him dearly.
He was going to look after me, I could see it clearly.

But soon I found out that he actually wanted me,
and as he got on top of me, darkness was all I could see.
He lifted up my dress and pulled down my knickers,
and as he did what he had to do, all I could taste in my mouth were liquors.

I told him "no" and told him to stop fiercely,
but instead he carried on and laughed in my ear harshly.
He ****** himself deeper inside,
as he chose to ignore my cries.

I couldn't push him off, he was too heavy,
all colour drained from my face and I began to feel empty.
He was high on drugs and alcohol fuelled,
and he carried on throughout the night until he was fulfilled.

The next day I woke up ****** and feeling *****,
I was covered in bruises and I was full of worry.
My lipstick was smeared and my hair full of knots,
and on my body there were scratches - lots and lots.

Now I'm sitting here three months on,
I've been dealing with this pain alone for far too long.
I swallow the hundreds of pills I've saved up,
and wash them down with alcohol from the drinking cup.

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.

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.

It’s worth burning myself out like a match
so long as others receive the light and warmth I dispatch.

How tragic it is to be in such despair.
To have to pretend like I just don't care.
Sitting in bed with tears running down my face;
thoughts of suicide are in place.
I cannot see the point in fighting anymore,
I wish to heaven I could soar.
I'm nothing, worthless, a failure, a burden,
my future is very much uncertain.
I'm not brave anymore; I have no courage,
I've been broken into a million different pieces; it's caused much damage.
And who would want to save someone who doesn't wish to be saved?
When this dark monster within has me well and truly enslaved?
I think I'll go now, it's time to say goodbye,
I will make my way to Heaven now; into the blackened sky.

His lips, soft like the inside of a rose,
meet mine as the fire within my soul grows -
and suddenly the world stops spinning and time has come to a standstill;
there is only he and I in this moment along with love, lust and thrill.
His fingertips lace my skin, caressing my body
and fireworks explode within every part of me.
*He is the colour in my world so monochrome –
and being with him in every moment feels like home.

When you find yourself trapped in a desperate, despondent hole
and you feel that one person has torn apart every piece of your soul,
but you find yourself able to live, laugh and love again even after the pain of heartache,
that is the day you realise that you're stronger than (and love conquers) all hate and heartbreak.

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 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...

I snap elastic bands around my wrist
as retribution for craving food; eating I must try to resist.
I spend hours in the cubicle purging everything from within,
this monster attacks me from inside and ignites beneath my skin.
I cry when I look in the mirror and see my grotesquely fat reflection,
and my cheeks are red and extra puffy and I have a pale complexion.
I weigh myself at every opportunity that I get,
and if I haven't lost a single pound I break out in a sweat.
I exercise and exercise until I feel faint and dizzy,
and run around abstaining from eating by keeping busy.
It's sleepless nights with painful tummy twinges,
writhing in discomfort and filling the air with screaming whinges.

And it's dealing with comments like "you don't look like you have an eating disorder"
because I am not stick thin, no - I am a normal weight and on the other side of the border.

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.

What is love?
Handing over your impuissant heart to someone who could break it in a heartbeat?
What is love?
Falling in deeper - though irrational, crazy, irresponsible - we do it to feel complete.
What is love?
Convincing ourselves that it exists; that our soulmate is in waiting?
What is love?
Acting in ridiculous ways while their expressions we are analysing and translating.
What is love?
Throwing all logical decision making skills down onto the floor?
What is love?
Allowing a single soul to disturb and influence every moment of our lives more and more.

There lies the difference between you and I,
the reason you're exuberant whereas I want to indefinitely say goodbye;
I let my past define me for all this time
but you only learned from it and moved on; so sublime.

How freeing it is to fall through the sky,
the rush of adrenaline as you begin to fly.
Flying high like a bird once you've jumped from a height,
eyes closed and arms spread out in the midst of the moonlight.

Feeling breathless as you near the ground,
wind flowing through your hair feeling like the lost being found.
Not knowing how this leap could end,
neither caring what'll happen as you continually descend.

You are the daisy that refuses to drown in the rain,
instead you continue to grow even through a hurricane.
You are the special work of art that no artist could ever recreate;
such a beautiful creation that there are many people you captivate.
You are the scattered sequin-silver moon dust in the sky
illuminating the darkness, giving people hope with your own lullaby.
You spread light in waves like the sea;
you’re incredibly inspiring to many including me.
You are tanzanite - a precious stone- so rare and valuable;
to everyone you meet, you have infinite worth - and that is admirable.

The person I see in the mirror is not me.
I hear you say “how can that be?”
The answer is simple; the demon inside has taken my place,
it punches my skin and tells me that I’m the biggest disgrace.
My arms are stained red and my mascara has run like a river,
I discover the monster that's where I should be with a shiver.

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.

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 close my eyes; the whole world has just ended -
the slough of despond within has crawled back to the surface, unintended.
Although thine own mind & heart be desolate, sinking and painful,
still I do not cry - but wait for my quietus; an act most baneful.

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.

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?

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.

Despondent people are not puzzles to decipher
and we are not broken vases to be fixed, either.
We are not projects for you to put together
just so you can boost your ego over "saving" another.

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.

Sometimes, she'd run deep into the shadowed forest;
full of breathtaking scenery and abundant beauty so modest,
on cold stormy nights where the wind would wail,
the thunder would roar, the skies would cry and the trees would flail.

She'd throw herself into a pile of auburn fallen leaves so crispy,
looking up at the ripped sky; the darkness broken by lightning so wispy,
and she'd scream and shout and weep in time to the thunder and rain,
until her tears were no more and her soul was cleansed from all the pain,

because in that moment in the woods she and the world were on the same wavelength,
and she isn't as alone as she thought she once was - together with the storm she rediscovers her strength.