I wanted my last poem be a tribute to my girlfriend.
I am no longer going to write on hellopoetry.
I've said it a few times before but could never find myself saying goodbye properly; but this time I'm making the effort.
Goodbye everyone, I love you all.

Go do amazing things Liz, I believe in you. Remember, life is more than just people's words and judgements, don't let people tell you what you can or can't do. You write from such raw emotions, I want you to know I think your writing is beautiful. Don't let your past dictate your future, it's not the shadows that show us where to go, but the light ahead of us.


Rachel: don't ever give up writing, just know I'll always read your poems.

Jo; don't forget it I'm proud of you. I've seen you be strong little football star, so I know you are strong.

Lere; I know we've been a little distant but you got life handled little bro, keep staying strong.

Wardha; I know stressful moments feels like they come more often than they go away but I'm certain that one day you'll find moments where stress, sadness all dissipates. I hope you find it but for now all I can say is I thank you for being my friend.

And Delilah: you are amazing in so many ways and you should really see yourself through my eyes one day, keep fighting, you know I'm cheering you on from afar, you know I'm always a message away- don't give up, life is so much more. Hang in there dee. I am right by your side whenever you need me

Goodbye

Ever since I met her, I felt like I've been living in a fantasy world
where pearls are found on land, diamonds are bound to our hands
and the passing of the sands seems all too quick for me and her.
I have dreamed of a love like this, a love that keeps me up at night
not from fright nor fear of what may come in the darkness
but the way an artist envisions his paintings and drawings walking,
talking behind each hidden smile and each following eye
I felt like I've leapt on the canvas and painted exactly what I wanted.
This girl, she makes me scared, makes me happy, makes me sad,
not the bad kind of sad but sad to ever think about disappointing her,
the blur in memories are filled in with moments where her smile is visible,
like a mythical creature; I can not believe such a beautiful girl exists.
Betwixt the sunrises and sunsets, I've seen my share of happiness,
my life is one happy mess and it's thanks to that one angel.

My starshine, may we be together forever in time,
I love you always and forever; whichever one of those is longer,
and each day I grow stronger with nothing but the thoughts of you.
So because of you, I am happy again...but also scared.

Scared...because I'm scared I may never ever love again,
unless that person was you.

Happy valentines day beautiful.

We live in a world where some choose to sit idle by
as a cry for help is silenced by an obsession with wealth,
as mental health concerns suffers the silent treatment
and reason categorises wounds and scars to visible marks.
Sometimes the marks are visible, the physical projection of pain,
the doctors deem them fixable, as if the pain ingested
could be cured by a pill or an injection, it's reckless
to assume pain from a broken perspective.
It is not effective to judge what should and shouldn't hurt,
sometimes it just hurts, the dirt in a wound waiting to blister
like a twister caught between an earthquake and a tsunami,
an army of different antidepressants swallowed without hesitance,
but sometimes it still hurts. It just hurts.

We live in a world where suicide is one thing countries share in common,
and often we ask ourselves 'do politicians ever think about people?'
The feeble argument between money and lives, as the night
passes its light onto different matters. When a person falls in a forest,
can their cries for help be heard. The muttered words are non existent,
but the persistent debate of what is going to be next in the budget cut,
loses touch on what is really human; 'when are we going to fund the help
that mental health concerns deserve?'.

The children is our key to the future, like candles alighting tomorrow
so why are we letting mental illness blow out the lights.
The children is our key to the future, but what future must we share
if humanly care and compassion is missing from the equation,
a new train station will not provide a shoulder for those who need it,
is human kindness disappearing?
How many more lives must we watch perish?

I am not a book you can put down and pick up when you're up for it,
I am not the chorus of a song, I am the song in its entirety
I will  inspire to be a better person in the name of you,
I would choose to walk to the ends of the universe and pray not to fall,
only to have fallen into an abyss waiting for you,
only to have fallen so far in love with you.

I am like a rolling thunder constantly in movement,
I am human and my human heart is falling apart,
the alarms are ringing in my ears and my tears,
only feels the fear that my shivering hands feel.
I am human and my human heart is beating itself up for you.

I am not a book you can put down on a shelf to collect dust,
I am not the crumbs and crust at the end of what is left of a pizza,
nor am I a people pleaser, I am the embodiment of a raging storm
chose to conform to its environment because fighting a futile fight
is pointless.

I am not an owl awake in the night because I chose to stare at stars,
I am filled with scars that I am hoping the trail of a shooting star could fill,
the night ink drenched on a broken quill, the missing smile,
the living portrayal of denial and a hurting heart.

In my mind we are forever together, in my mind I am holding you,
sober news sounds better than drunk news, the world is safer
the later the hours turn and arm in arm, we are close.
I will always close my eyes and dream of that better life I painted,
even if it is tainted with the wet stains of streaming tears, I close my eyes
painting blue skies with a figure filled with dried eyes where cries
are silenced.
I am still painting, that Disney wedding embedding costumes into mind,
I might be blind but I'll still find my way to your arms, and each scar
is dissipating, the world is levitating on our shoulders
but it doesn't matter.

Please tell me I am still dreaming...because I would rather be dreaming
than imagining...

I am not a book you can put down and pick up when you want,
I am not a picture book with figures erased and faded ink, I am sinking...

I am not a book you can put down so ...please can you come pick me back up?

Grab my hand* he says
I know what you're going through
The cycles of firey independance
That you can make it, on your own
The wrenching despair
The flashing moment where you don't want to be here anymore
And it all seems so pointless
I know it
We don't have to be here anymore
Take my hand he says
I take his hand
And when the ensuing darkness falls around me
Like choatic endless falling stars
I do not run, I am relieved
My heartbeat is the last thing I hear before he leads me
Into the wild, overgrown garden of sleep.

She lays alone in her high tower castle,
playing pass the parcel by herself, lonesome-
she groans for help, but it never seems to arrive.
Her eyes are fuelled with desire for company-
plagued by puppetry, the puppeteer-
steers her every action, every breath of air taken
is monitored.

She once spent days brushing her silky hair,
known that life was fair and just but time changes-
as a pendulum continues to swing and sway.
The nights played like a recorded noise,
no choice but to stay awake as the beep continues
and the tribute made in honour of her grew larger.

In the multistorey hospital where laid her brush,
the cuts and bruises came to be fixed with care,
but her hair grew thinner and shorter day by day.
In her hospital bed, where she laid asleep-
with ambient beeps, she no longer lays there
as she takes her lonesome stare into the light.