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.

It’s an addiction like any other; it’s always the same story
“if I don’t eat as much tomorrow I won’t have to take these pills so purgatory”,
yet each day the dose gets higher and the symptoms get so much worse –
you’re dependent on the emptiness and pain it brings with its curse.

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.

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.

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.

As Plath once said, "dying is an art"
and just like her it is something I'm good at by heart.
You see, I've died not once or twice but fifteen times,
always by my own hand; sometimes by rope and sometimes
by pills stocked up to the max - always dying
and also always, to my own misfortune, surviving.

There is always a longing bittersweet
euphoria when I spiral out of control in just a heartbeat;
when nothing is in my hands anymore,
a special kind of freedom that I have longed for.

You treated me just like a cigarette
and thus became my biggest regret.
You ignited my soul beyond anything I’ve ever experienced before,
but then you gained everything you ever wanted; so you ****** the life out of me more and more,
and then you reached the end and finally you happily threw me away and left me to burn out on the floor.

I wake in the morning and dread the day ahead,
it would be much easier if I could go back to sleep instead.
It is better than the torture of my disorder;
the voices in my head don't ask me things nicely - they're always an order.

My fear of vomiting is detrimental,
so the acts that I carry out are fundamental.
I do not leave the house; germs could get on my hands,
I always find an excuse for not participating in my friend's plans.
My hands are red raw and sore
from the excessive scrubbing; it's become a chore.
I have to put sanitiser around my mouth too,
otherwise my mind goes crazy - unfortunately that's true.

When exposed to a vomiting bug,
I completely stop eating and take an anti-bacterial drug.
I count down forty eight hours
before I can eat again; this is the extent of the phobia's powers.

When somebody mentions they feel unwell,
I avoid them like the plague and it feels like I'm in hell.

I think of the future and of the children I desire,
but the idea of germs and sickness around them is a taunt so dire.

I worry about vomiting every single day;
causing panic attacks and mental breakdowns - I want to run away.

People laugh at such a "silly" terror,
but for me it's a life-changing and deleterious horror.

My light has to be hidden from each and every walk of life;
it is a target for the darkness and strong emotions of others that are rife.
My soul is too deep and fragile to be torn apart time and time again,
by impassioned people who end up causing unintentional pain.
I am crushed by the weight of the universe.
They say to be an empath is a gift - but to me it feels like a curse.

I convinced myself that you were my missing puzzle piece,
the only one I needed to be entirely complete.
But then I realised I was wrong, you couldn't commit,
and I cannot force pieces together when they don't fit.

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.

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.

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.

I am torn into pieces like confetti,
                   tired from this fight; my soul is empty.

I want to     F
                       L
                     O
                        A
                           T
                                   away and be here no more,
          to find a peaceful place where I’m no longer in this war.

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.

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.

Hello you, I have a few things to say,
and although you are downhearted, I hope they make your day.
Your life took a turn and you fell so hard,
but I promise you're not broken but merely scarred.
Soon things will get better and you'll wake each morning with light in your heart,
with a smile that lives forever within your eyes, moulded like fine art.

I want you to know that you're the most beautiful creation I've ever come across,
you are the beacon of light for so many and if we didn't have you, we'd be at a great loss.
You are the one who can go ahead and actually change the world -
a precious soul who can break the mould and change the ideals that have been furled.

Don't tell me you know who he really is in all his madness
until you know the ways he tried to **** his sadness.
Until you know of the blood running like a river down his thighs
from the gaping wounds he makes all the while he cries,
until you see the crimson waterfalls rushing from the veins on his wrist,
as he tries his best to succeed at ceasing to exist.

Don't tell me you know him until you know how he spends every waking moment at war with his mind,
guided by the black dog incredibly prominent; the same darkness that has him so confined.
Until you're aware of his tendency to seek amnesia at the bottom of endless bottles of whiskey,
until you understand that this crisis leads his behaviour to become most risky.

Don't tell me you know him until you know of how he starves himself and strives for perfection,
because tormentors told him that he's not good, thin or man enough - so it's all he sees in his reflection.
Until you've seen him punching holes in the walls wanting the pain to cease,
until you've seen him popping hundreds of pills hoping from an escape from the world, looking for release.

So don't tell me you know who he really is in all his madness
until you know the ways he tried to **** his sadness,
you only see the parts he wants you to see -
you cannot understand he's broken into merely debris.

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.

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.

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 cannot undo
what you have already done.

You've made your bed,
which you must now lie in.

And the worst thing
about your perfidy?

While I lay here in night-long laments,
you are lying tranquil in her embrace.

I love that cheeky and sassy smile on your face,
and the way you hold me within your embrace.
I love the way your eyes are the colour of earth kissed
by spring falls and how the feel of your touch throws me into the midst.
I love the passion that spills from within you
and the way we connect on many different levels too.
I love that you're the only person I truly trust
with all my darkest secrets; you make things better like magic fairy dust.
I love how you support me in all my endeavours and dreams
and how you're the one who helps me face my demons by all means.

I am undeniably, deeply, irrationally and pathetically in love with you,
and the idea that one day you might fall in love with me too is something I cling onto.

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.