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Wind Lass Jan 2018
Sand and stone under my feet
Walk slow nothing to reach
Paint the scenery with my eyes
All my favourite shades and colours I like

Don’t look too close
Don’t look to close
I don’t want to see
What I’ve been hiding
I had a plan
I had a plan
What’s this place?
Nothing is as it seems

So I tell the stones
All of the things that I can’t show
I’ve lost my way
No one can know
Guide my feet
it’s been a long time for me
The words ******* set free
As I converse with the earth below my feet

Seems the grass is always greener
Will I ever stop my dreaming
He offers me almost everything
Why thens my heart always bleeding?

Show me the way
My fickle heart and brain
Show me the way
Out of this
Tied down where are my wings
Words need saying will you listen in?

As I Tell the stones
A song I wrote feeling a lost on a Sunday night
Wind Lass Jan 2018
dull ache in my chest
lump in my throat
burning behind my lids

i’m sick

everyday is different
every moment unsure
so fragile

they call you wise
they call you strong
they call you counsellor

i’m sick

no medicine, pills
syrup or formula
will be enough

the need always there
in the darkness
unsatisfied

i’m sick

disregard
feeds the blackened hurt
i embrace it

the disease
seeping seeping
growing

comes out in word
and deed
involuntarily

they know i’m sick

now everyone begins to see
the black empty sorrow
inside me

infecting them
When I first began to struggle with depression.
Wind Lass Jan 2018
dreams mash together
lurching and pulling
and i see everything

memories
colourless rainbows
pulling at the edges

a liquid song
tuneless familiar
sweetest melody

slipping through
the cracks
wider and wider


the thief is coming


expanding, growing
living rapidly inside me
filling the space

i hear
voice spilling voices
splitting everything

i run
the thief applauds
hands outstretched

escapee digs in
whirling fleeing
desperate in terror


and i’m caught.

gran it’s me, remember?
Written for a research assignment on dementia
Wind Lass Jan 2018
driving away from you in the late am
i'm running from things i don't want to feel
with every mile i feel the missing
portions of me reaching back to you

i try to be myself as i'm recreated in loving you
i try to sing and the melody sets me free
i'm dancing in the late am
thoughts of you music to my ears

i turn my head because i swear i can feel you
as the traffic lights turn red
there you are, right next to me laughing red
and i break into a grin

i don't know how to be myself again
remade under your gaze
the moment suspends
you're still looking at me smiling

the lights turn
you're away and so am I
driving away from you in the late am
i wonder sometimes if you remember moments like these. if you remember catching me dancing at the traffic lights. if the moment was significant enough to you for remembering or if you've had too many like that, with too many other more meaningful people, so its just a shade in a blur of color.
Wind Lass Jan 2018
Cold of blue eyes hold a question tonight,
Fear in the starlight holding too tight,
Gripping the steel that runs molten in my veins,
You hold me close, can't you feel the burning?

You drag me by heartstrings a stumbling pace, no I can't go back,
The noose smells of flowers still I dangle and sway,
How we flicker in the wind,
Runrunrunawaygo, Runrunrunawaygo.
My hands empty and open,
You kneel me before the alter,
Insist there's something left to offer,
But held empty hands only suffer.

Faith in the moonlight blinding our eyes, scars painted over you still feel what I hide,
You insist you like the shades of the battles I've braved,
What if I'm not ready to be saved?

You drag me by heartstrings a stumbling pace, no I can't go back,
The noose smells of flowers still I dangle and sway,
How we flicker in the wind,
Runrunrunawaygo, Runrunrunawaygo.
My hands empty and open,
You kneel me before the alter,
Insist there's something left to offer,
But held empty hands only suffer.

Cold of blue eyes hold a question tonight,
Will I ever revive what's died,
You offer me weapons for my head while you beat me into place,
You hold me close,
My empty hands burning
A song I wrote, one I'm proud of, for someone who loved the idea of me and the dreams of a future I was incapable of giving him.
Wind Lass Jan 2018
i crave to go back to when
what we did mattered so much
to when we were the chosen ones
we were guided and well loved

we had such a small window
to change the world and succeed
enlisted to an impossible battle
where time would rob us of belief

those that come after us
coming into the spotlight bleary eyed and sweet
greeted by the guiding voices
of people we used to know, but never meet

what becomes of me?
when the world stops listening?
No one seems to find you worth time and effort unless you're young and impressionable
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