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Cath Williams Nov 2015
Jessie is seventeen.
She's still in school.
Her prospects are good, her future looks bright.
She likes to act cool,
As long as she deceives her feelings inside.

Jessie is seventeen.
She makes music.
It takes the strain of the words she's victim of.
She writes about conflict,
To try to make her life imaginary, her life without love.

Jessie is seventeen.
She sits at her piano.
Moving her hands along the ivory keys, keeping inspired.
She sometimes draws an arrow,
Allowing her fingers to slice and cut on the wire.

Jessie is seventeen.
She likes the smell of home baking.
If you cut your grass, she compliments the fresh scent.
She finds perfumes totally breathtaking,
When eating oranges, she takes in the aroma of each segment.

Jessie is seventeen.
She has sensitive teeth.
Ice cream is too cold, it sends up a pain.
She worries about what lies beneath,
And prefers it if the taste isn't too plain.

Jessie is seventeen.
She sees a lot.
For someone so young, she's been witness to much.
She got herself caught on a dodgy plot,
And uses her body, for her mind, as a crutch.

Jessie was seventeen.
She wanted to learn.
Her prospects were good, her future is bright.
Jessie was cool.
She managed to decieve her feeling inside.

Jessie was seventeen.
She felt things inside.
Society heard her cries,
But did not listen to her when she tried.
Now Jessie has left for a better life.
Where she'll no longer need to hide.
Yes, that's right, Jessie died.
Cath Williams Nov 2015
Close your eyes and imagine yourself falling,
Your aching bones rattle against the stone floor.

A cave on a cliff, ready to crumble.
Looking out to the sea of normality and order.
But how do you get there?

The lonely, cold cave, knowing there's more to this.
Hoping for that better life.
But how do you get there?

The deeper I wander, the darker it gets.
Losing sight of what could soon be, the water.
But how do I get there?

The middle generation, the confused generation,
A lonely generation, a hopeful generation.
I know how to get there.

Close your eyes and imagine yourself falling,
Your tired mind released into the reckless, rolling waves.
Cath Williams Oct 2015
Being with you is like choking on the harmless air we breathe,
Like seeing through the reflective glass that lines your walls.
Slowing down on an open road with the whole world just in our reach.
I don't know what I'm doing,
Or even how I'm doing it.
One day this is what I'll be missing.
Maybe not you, or us, or the things we do,
But the way I feel in this second knowing that you're happy.
I'm not the cause and I don't mind, this feeling is enough to hide the pain I'm really feeling.
A temporary solution at the least, but solution nonetheless.
You deserve more than the happiness I cannot provide you with.
Cath Williams Sep 2015
We can try to stand out, be the difference in the crowd.
And sure, it can work.
But we're the same in sense, in dress, and in form.
You may be better, or maybe it's me, but I could be just as good, you could too.
You have eyes to see, ears to hear. So do I.
We're not that different at all, if you really think about it.
We live, we wait, we hope for fate, dreaming of something.
But none of this matters, it's just our feigning.
We're all just sinners and liars and lovers alike.
Searching for a feeling that our own sparks can ignite.
Cath Williams Sep 2015
We're all just stars
Waiting for the moment we can truly explode
Waiting for the moment we can quietly fade away
Coloured by the numbness of living
And the coldness that death brings
Dully stinging our minds
Shaping our flesh and bones
Into something so strong
Yet so weak without a cause
No reason for hope
No reason for satisfaction
Because we're all just cold, lonely, numb stars in the vastest universe imaginable
With no real capacity to leave
Cath Williams Sep 2015
I build up my guards to keep me safe,
Keeping secrets and love hidden away.
Waiting for the bricks to be demolished but knowing you're not far away.
My walls may be ten feet tall but your whirlwind love can break me right down.
Down to the simplest and purest of grains.
You can get under my skin, right to the core,
With the slightest touch I crumble,
With a single breath I am broken.
But once your tornado fades to a still breeze,
My walls will build up stronger and quicker than ever.
Leaving remnants of shattered stones in my heart forever.
Cath Williams Sep 2015
Why me again?
Well, it's not actually me, it's you.
But again?
Not one, or two,
Or three, but four.
And I can't cry this time, not again.
How do I cope?
I mean, it's harder for you.
But I don't know if I can cope again.
What if you're not successful,
What if you deteriorate,
What if the same happens to you?
What will I do?
I guess you're not going to be doing much.
But I'm glad I'm not you,
I couldn't be so unable.
So tired yet tiring
Ready to be retiring
I don't think I'll ever be you.
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