Can we talk
about those teens
who saw their lives
draining out of their hands
like sand falling back into the beach,
and instead of holding it tightly
against their chests
decided to blow it away
with the wind;
like a kid blowing his candles
far too fast
and extinguishing the fire
from his only birthday cake
until there was nothing left
to live?

She has been through hell and back
and would never wish that on someone else,
so she’ll hide all that she wants;
scoot it far into her heart.
She’ll give you all the kind smiles,
she’d never harm a fly
because she knows how to empathise.

I never fit into the fairy tale
of a perfect broken soul,
I hurt others
because I don’t know how to love
I try my best
but it’s never enough.
In fact,
I don’t.
I don’t try my best.
I do the bare minimum to keep myself alive,
I haven’t got a kind heart,
all I got is luck
and a broken soul.

I feel stuck.
I am rowing but my boat doesn’t move;
I am trying but it's never enough;
it is two steps back and one to the front;
missing assignments pile above my shoulders
the load is making me bend and fall to the ground
and my face is up against it, looking at everyone else above me,
getting kicked at as they move forwards
without me.
Because I am stuck
and I can't move
or breathe
or barely exist,

How do you expect progress when it is
this hard to live?

I wanna make ****** songs
to sing my poetry
but I can't find any chords
that match my symphony.

So spread your wings
and give me creativity,
cause all I need
is inspiration;
an epiphany.

Play a few chords
on your guitar.
Please,
sing to me.

I’ll always be thankful
for the embrace
your words tuck me in.

Maybe someday,
I’ll be the one behind
the mic
singing
poetry.