Coated the idea in plastic
Kim Kardashian heisted the magic
Kept it in public's eye, distorted;
tarnished its value as though it's important,
but in the wrong ways.

We've paint a portrait of fiction;
Created chaos and complete addiction,
it's reverting back to a rendition
where we forget what it really means;
so we speak of it as though we knew it,
and shun eyes on those who go through it
even though most take part into it.

A slight touch, to make it look natural;
we've lost the organic and pastoral,
we've seen complete cover ups
moulded masks with make up,
we've filled the world with falsities,
And if the world is burning or crashing,
you can always keep up with the kardashian.

We've muddled beauty with plastic,
Celebrities heisted the magic,
we've placed shallow beauty in media;
saturated the world in sepia,
fake ****, make-up, same cups;
we've distorted the idea of beauty,
And left half the world feeling ugly....
Feeling like they aren't worth anything...
Feeling like the world was not built for them.

Give up the lass
And I'll give up my mind.
I will give up in
a manner that is unkind.
I've heard your taunting calls;
I've seen your righteous ways
I've seen the way Autumn falls
And I have seen them all.
So give up the lass
And I'll give up myself,
I bid your final mercy and help
To let me give up myself.
I do this not out of love, but hatred;
I've been bruised, burnt and broke
But I've seen your presence long before,
And maybe, I need not see anymore.

Give up your relentless chase;
And I promise I'll give up mine.
Immortality is the farthest illusion
that rests in the depths of my mind.

I'm sorry. Mr. Gazer, your life is being played with,
You've gathered the sweetest memories you've ever tasted;
Now you think you're going to hold onto them forever?
Clearly you don't have a ******* brain because you're mistaken,
Everything you forsook and have ******* forsaken,
I'm telling you, I'm taking it all back.
Look around Mr. Gazer, you're ******* hated;
you're a disappointment to your family, but I won't mention friends,
**** if I did mention friends, I don't think this will ever end.
Mr. Gazer. Mr. Gazer, why don't you sing well at all?
Is it cause you drink yourself silly even way before the bar's last call;
is it because you have one ******* and no ******* *****?
Mr. Gazer. Mr. Gazer, how would you like to challenge the world,
watch how you can make all the people's arm hair curls;
as they cheering you on, from start to end?
Oh Mr. Gazer, you're too ******* gullible.
This isn't a message out of hatred you ******* *******,
this is a word of wisdom from your new best friend : LIFE.
I don't know when this sentence ends
but welcome to Life my new best friend.

Mr. Life, I've tried and tried,
I've been to the optometrist,
they said nothing was wrong with my lenses
but when it pours rain, nothing feels cleansed;
everything become blurry.
Mr. Life, You don't need to end your sentence,
I've done that many times for you;
I've done that almost every day...
After all, what are friends for?
...
So here's how it should end,
Goodbye my new best-friend.

Whether you're seeing things different
Or you're just being different
Don't ever forget to let the light glisten
And light the candles of hopes and dreams.
Breathe. One. Two. Three. Go.
Set the scene.
The future is unforgiving
And the story has yet to be written
So challenge the norms
Stand up against the storms
And set the scene.
Breathe. One. Two. Three. Go

Caught in the clouds,
I'd stare into the grey sky
Just waiting for rain to cascade
From each puff of clouds
To wash away my imperfections.

Eyes on the prize, eyes on myself
As I stare around I've been locked;
Closeted by my own broken closet,
And always saw a scream for help.

Sands across my feet, the warmth
Still indented in my memory; the air
searing against my skin, and the sun
over my ******* body like a storm.

It was the first time, I'd been *******
not by my lonesome, but in public;
And though I still hated my stomach,
It was the first time I'd felt air on my skin,
I'd felt the freedom that the beaches' promise.

All the starving myself in front of a mirror,
could not compare to the joy of running-
through arid sands, stepping into the tepid-
waters all the while not caring that my image;
that my body; that my skin; was inferior.

The lucent beams of the moon could
clash with the burning sun and shine a spotlight
on who I was in that moment, and it would have
garnered no self hatred nor self disgust at
what I saw in the mirror-like waters,
I was not beautiful, I was not handsome but no...
I was human. I needn't need to be anyone,
but myself and my ******* self agreed to that
even more.

While trying to find freedom on a beach,
I found freedom in myself,
And if I had once screamed for help;
That scream is now mute,silent,
For I have found my closet.
Freedom was my closet,
And I drowned in it.

No son should hear their mother's cry
muffled by the whispers of 'I'm fine'.
The tears still fresh from the eye,
like a salt stained ravine.
I've seen the greatest fall,
the strongest weakened,
and I witnessed
my mum fall on a weekend;
not a spiral towards the floor,
not in physicality but
in an emotional rollercoaster
that has herself coasted
off to where the words can't reach;
where her heart does bleed,
and where her mouth doesn't speak.

"Mum are you ok?" I mutter,
knowing well enough of the answer,
But i pretend to be some majestic dancer
prancing around the topic.
There's a caution sign,
it reads "wet floor"
only floor is spelt different,
it's spelt with an H
an E and a continuation of art.
I tiptoe around the sign
as though they were land mines,
afraid that one false step
could pour my own death.
...
No son should hear their mother's cry
muffled by the whispers of 'I'm fine'.