to be real
in a false
world

is like wearing
a corset made
of your own
bones

your heart
weakly beating
beneath your
armour

it pulses red
fist shaped
and ready
to fight

the creatures
that lurk
like spectres
in the dark
corners of
your mind

it's not up
to you if
you win
this fight

only you
try, you
try, you
try

For some it was poetry
   For me, it was bits and pieces of you
   More of you...and less of me
No, it was everything about you

In my hours of bliss
Here in this world full of words
In my time of grief
You’re my poem I’ll always write
and the story of my life

We do so much
For people
Who did
So little