Some say that
Eyes are the widows to the soul.

If that is true, then mine
Are a never-ending pit.
They are a place overfilling with desperation,
Where hope was chased away long ago.
They are haunted by the creatures of the night,
Preying on those hanging by a thread.
They are a sanctuary for the evil,
Who have no hope of redemption.

But I say
Take a closer look,
Squint your eyes if you need to
Just take some time
To look harder.

Because I see something else.
I see power vibrating through the shadows,
Echoing through the darkness.
I taste ambition seeping through the desperation.
I feel the courage to take a stand and
Tower over fear,
Staring into the depths of its soul.

You see,
I see
A fighter.

She whispered into the wind
Hoping it carried her message
Caressing the ears of others
Staining their souls.

She spoke into the wind
Asking it to carry her message
Yanking the hair of others
Tugging at their souls.

She yelled into the wind
Demanding it to carry her message
Shoving the backs of others
Squeezing the life from their souls.

Could you hear it?
The message she left behind
Heard too late
As the last breath of life
Left one word
Help.

Is it strange
How the lies
That once burned my throat
Now taste like honey?

I gave you a piece of my heart and
You promised to handle with care
Like the precious cargo that it was.

But instead you carelessly dropped it
Shattering onto the floor
Leaving jagged edges
Beyond repair.

You handed back my piece and now
It no longer fits
The edges leave scars of memories
Better forgotten.

You have forever marred my broken heart.

My clockwork heart
Stopped ticking long ago,
But you have faithfully
Oiled its rusty parts
And re–taught it how to function.
Slowly the gears have begun to spin,
A faint ticking in my chest
Fills the air
As you wait for the time.

I’ve been reading too many fairytales
Where the princess always finds her prince
And happily ever after.

But in reality
There are no princes swooping princesses off their horses
And happily ever after is just a late night wish.

Instead the princess chases after the prince
Only to find a masked man
To reveal a villain.

Instead there’s little hope for a good day
Where a genuine smile warms my face
Never less a happily ever after.

I’ve been reading too many fairytales
That do not exist
Anymore.

I am fifteen – a teenager.
Life’s irony is at its prime
It gives us a taste of freedom
But before we can join it
The powers clamp collars onto our necks
Restraining us to running in circles.