I sang the song of the lonely oceans
Where heartbroken words are drowned
In the deepest darkest place of emotions
Where I screamed without a sound

I longed for you to hear my voice
My inner screams suffocating
Our broken love was not my choice
But I suffer my turmoil within

"You're a good mummy,"
he told me
"you give me food
every night."

I thanked him,
told him how happy
his words made me,
but I began to cry.

Images of mothers,
some place else,
somewhere I am not,
flooded me.

Images of mothers
whose children
cry out in hunger.

Images of mothers
who hold their children close
because they have
nothing else to give.

I don't know how it feels
to tell a child
they cannot eat
for a third day
in a row.

I don't know how it feels
to watch as your child's ribcage
becomes more defined.

I don't know how it feels
to be truly helpless.

I cry,
for the image of mothers
whose tears remain unheard.

That maybe someone
might hear me
and ask why.

Breathe;

I know there was a time when you thought,
you would burn bright like the shooting- stars with me;

Does it make you breathless,
How we became,
Candles throbbing with a steady flame.

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole.
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see,
My foe outstretchd beneath the tree.

The world is an ocean
Thick and raging waves
With shoals of people
Rainbows of colour
Beautiful to see and hear
Sad they don’t all get along
Their colours combined would amaze
Salted spray, cracked lips and sore throats
They talk through the ache anyway
Gallons of water never to drink
There are no tears in the sea to blink

She's talking about the cloth we're cut from and the scissors she used
but I'm only half listening, because
there is this pain in my jaw that comes from dreaming
and outside the house i can hear somebody speaking

She's asking about the axes I've ground and the wounds I've licked,
I can't tell her a thing and in this dream
my mouth is sewn shut and I am not strong enough to change anything

in the morning I will wonder why she comes to me,
but doesn't stay

Question which comes to my mind every now and then,
Is there any holy spirit who can hold my hand?

I'm scared and lost in this world of false,
People wearing mask to hide there flaws.

So much razzmatazz and glamour around here,
Why I m the only one to hide my fear.