there are no kisses and hugs
no missing or love
were laughs become screams
and tears become streams

nobody dares to speak
for we are all too weak
and afraid of what should be loved

as my mum comes near
we all stand in fear
wondering who will be next
to be pulled by the hair
and get given no care
only painful kicks and stares

I tried hiding under my bed
for sooner or later I will be dead
we're all just living in dread

I can no longer take the pain
there really is no gain

because things are just different in my house...

You burn with an incredible passion.
That stubborn pride, that brilliant
anger, all bursting underneath
a strained composure and your
need to be the tough one. It
flares out from your eyes,
those rebellious chocolate
pools reflecting every word
you choke down. I am awed by
the passion you hold, the fire
that drives your every move.
It is what allowed you to love so completely.
--A tactic I could
never seem to comprehend--
However, love and hate burn from
the same flame, and the hate that
now warms your chest is reminiscent
of the love it once was. I do not
blame you for it. I envy you the
opportunity to feel so fully. I envy you
the hatred that burns in your chest.
I envy the love that it once was.
There is no flame here.
No passion to burn. Only the
cold concrete of thought and the faint
memory of a warmth I could never hold.

i dream about
that girl
that girl
who can wear that
dress
and smoke
after school

she can let her
hair down
even on the hot days
and let it fall
and dance
on the small of her back

she breaths in
the lethal fumes
that don't even touch her
her porcelain skin
too taut to let the
poisons in

she sits and lets
the sun melt on her face
as she lays on the freshly
cut grass
the boys staring
and her not caring

i sit and stare
at that girl
who sits and stares
right back at me
through the smoke
of my infinite
dreams

I don’t know what I am
He says I’m just a teenage girl
I may appear that way
In my party dress and pearls

My flowers in my hair
But inside my mind is racing
Filled with horrid thoughts
And hopeless dreams I’m chasing
And all this time I wasting
Dealing with the heartbreak I’m facing
Remembering my mind is tracing
Such pain I am incasing
Because his lips I still am tasting

See I am not just a teenage girl
In my party dress and pearls
I am much more
I’m a wreck
I’m a sucker
I’m broken
I’m hopeless
In this dark lonely world
I am much more than just
A teenage girl.

I'm sleeping early
Not drinking coffee
Not reading your poetry
To, to avoid you from appearing in my dreams
No, no,
Nothing works

We search once more for the crystal stream
Where poets wrote and young lovers dreamt
Of the beautiful years to come

But no more now is the crystal stream
Where poets wrote and lovers dreamt
Of the beautiful years to   come

The crystal stream now a fetid place
Of sewage and industrial waste
The hedgerows long ripped out and gone
The once green fields now barren ground
What legacy do we leave to our unborn sons
Now that the beautiful years have gone

But we poets still can sit and dream
And write of things that might have been
In our minds we still see the crystal stream
And dream of the beautiful years to come

You may have died young,
        but as long as
        my words live,

*You will never grow old.