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 May 2016 Amrita
Brent Kincaid
There’s something wrong with me
I’m broken somewhere inside.
And, I know it won’t be easily fixed
I know because I tried.
I’m all messed up and in pain
And nothing is going right.
I keep on trying to get better
But it’s an uphill fight.

I’m hurting and I want to cry.
I’m depressed and I know why.
I want things to change right now
But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how.

I keep wishing it was tomorrow
And my heart didn’t hurt so much
For the feel of you in my arms
And the healing of your loving touch.
I’ve healed all I will ever heal
From drowning in my own tears.
But there is something wrong with me
Since you are no longer here.

I’m hurting and I want to cry.
I’m depressed and I know why.
I want things to change right now
But, I can’t fix it. I don’t know how.

There’s something wrong with me
I’m broken somewhere inside.
And, I know it won’t be easily fixed
I know because I tried.
I’m all messed up and in pain
And nothing is going right.
I keep on trying to get better
But it’s an uphill fight.
 May 2016 Amrita
Lovey
A dream
 May 2016 Amrita
Lovey
A dream, is only a dream.
Right?
A dream, is a figure of something that'll never be a reality.

A dream, is a breif hope.
So was said.

Is it truthfully only a figure, a brief hope, a hole to cover up pain?
Or is it simply mistaken?

A dream could become who you are.
If you take that fiure, it will turn into hope.
Hope that a future does exsist.
A future you can control, one you can make yourself.

So a dream might be a figure, a brief hope, a patch to cover the pain.


But it starts with a dream to become something great, it takes a nightmare to become something we never imagined.
-Lovey
 Apr 2016 Amrita
Corvus
I still remember her house vividly;
It was always messy, clothes and toys littering the floor
While the cats wandered by whenever they pleased.
There was a beautiful doll's house that she cherished so much
That she let me play with as she spoke to my parents in the kitchen.
Guitar-playing was a passion of hers,
And I'd sit, transfixed, as she sang along to the songs she played,
With a wide grin on her face, that was her home.
Now it's not.
It's never going to be her home again,
Because now she lives in a home for old people with health problems.
She had a breakdown after the death of her sister
And no-one could give her the help she needed, so she went away
Where her loved ones thought she'd be well looked after.
There the staff kept her locked in her room,
Mind atrophied from the solitude they forced upon her
Except for the times they shoved antipsychotics that she didn't need down her throat.
No-one visited her. How could they?
Her son insisted she stay in her home city
Even though everyone in the family lived in another.
My mother couldn't see her own sister, busy being a carer for me and her mother,
Not for years, and by then it was too late.
She'd fallen over, broken her hip and banged her head,
And she suffered through the agony for three days,
Until my mother found out and demanded they take her to hospital.
Then the home was shut down and she lives somewhere else,
Only five minutes away where she's visited often.
But it's all too late.
Once lively, outgoing, big booming laughter that filled the hallways,
She's now timid and frail, she's aged twenty years in only six.
There are no passions, only forced smiles
Dotted here and there, on rare occasions, with genuine glimpses of happiness.
And I'd love to tell you that I'm writing this for her,
Because I love and miss her and want to document the downfall of a woman so wonderful.
But I'd be a liar, because this write is as much about me as it is about her.
Every time I look at her, I can't help but wonder how long I have left
Until I'm in the same place as her.
A brief summary of my auntie's breakdown, and my own selfish reflections on the subject.
 Apr 2016 Amrita
Makenzie Scott
I went for that walk past midnight
took the shortcut through the cemetery
on the way back.

As I passed the orange blossoms
my steps slowed
to a halt
imagine as if a passerby
an emaciated soul stopping of thirst at a river's side.

I drowned in the sweet stickiness of
summer citrus
lit so fragrant in dims of dawn.

Darkness in blossoms overcome
a headstone shines
like new pennies
in full sun.

I went for that walk past midnight
you will be happy to know, I took a shortcut on the way back.
 Apr 2016 Amrita
Chris Fortune
Innocence seems like a thing of the past
Nowadays it makes you look like an outcast
Needing to search for things that are pure
Obstacles get in the way that's for sure
Connecting the dots to a much simpler life
Every attempt to break away from the strife
New life blooms deep down inside of my heart
Creating a waterfall not knowing where to start
Eleveating to a level that you can never part
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