Within my room theres very little for a descriptive imagination
just a canvas shelfing unit, a single bed and a bag.
I would go on and on but that is all that I have.
The bed that I sit upon is without a duvet cover.
the pillowcase doesn't match the sheet but alas I have no other.
The walls are bare and lifeless with no colour aire in sight.
The light within the room flickers, like a lampost awaiting the night.
The canvas shelfing unit that above I did foremention,
has a ricketty frame and needs some; careful love and attention.
it has a certain character. like a frail hunchbacked old man
unable to fully stand up straight but trying the best he can.
The bag is sat dormant in the middle of the room, it makes it feel lived in
and homely, I presume.
Yet every night I enter here and feel a sense of despair
but what am I supposed to do
when that is all that I have there.

Throughout life people will show you love
love from one another,love from above
from those who have moved on and those who still linger
within my heart and sometimes wander,
through my head and in my mind
knowing that they're safe inside
in my thoughts whilst layed in bed
in my heart whilst making zed's
and, though I'm asleep I can still feel
that all knowing eye watching over
thinking of me, and keeping me safe
knowing with it watching me I'm in a good place.
this eye also has a voice
a well known voice, to which I might add
this voice I speak of happens to be My Dad.

My Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***
MY HERO

just imagining being with him makes me feel so high
like a fluttering starling floating across a sunlit sky
it makes me feel warm and stops me being mad
this is where I go to when I feel sad, when I feel aggressive or need to feel glad
glad that I have something to achieve
to make my dad proud of me
because he believed,
I could do anything that could make him proud
but I want to impress him and shout it out loud
I want to say that my dad was the best
he helps me through everything although he's not there
I can feel his presence in the air
it runs through me because he is my warmth
he is my idol
he is my king
his is what i believe in

I will meet with him again one day
Him.
my Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***.
**MY HERO

If you have issues with drugs you'd always talk to Frank
If you were having money troubles you'd go straight to the bank
But if you had to vent your anger
To whom would you go
Well here's a little secret from someone in the know

When you have the need to vent
There's no better man to call, than the vent'i'taker - stress collector
Or just for short Paul.

He will take on all your aggression and shred it nice and small
As once he has done that there will be no stress at all.

He can cut up people also...but that's a very bad thing to ask,
As if Paul got caught...he would be straight in jail.
And very very fast.

Along a secluded street a light dimly flickers upon the porch beneath
The chair swing creaks as the breeze flows past
as the leaves fall gently to the ground from the solitary tree laying central on the grass
Footsteps can be heard, in the background amidst the autumn gloom

The street is still, it's apparent that no life has been here for some time
But still the sounds of the street linger like it was only yesterday when families, cars and pets were present

A storm came raging through many years ago, the town has been left dormant since
No one had dared to go, to view the devastation left behind from all the chaos

Yet now a women looks upon it, the footsteps heard were hers
She's remembering all the sights and sounds that once filled the street
A strange expression draws across her face as if she is in pain
But she's just remembering the storm that came with thunder lightning and rain

It rained for what seemed a century and floods waged war on the trees
When lightning struck the houses it brought them to their knees
The thunder rocked the neighbourhood as it was the first sign of the storm
But as this woman stood alone the street just looked forlorn.

Only one living thing survived the desecration of this town
and now she was here one last time to lay the past to rest
She was reliving the horrifying ordeal
but all in her best interest

The experience had effected her way deep within her soul
The life she was living now was incomplete
She wanted to forget it all and move on with her life
But as she stood there taking it in
She realised
The memories of this town were only in her head, and once she wiped them from her
The town truly would be dead.

Because her memories kept it living
Her memories have the ability to
shine a light upon the porch
Show parents on the chair swing
and children climbing the tree.
The past will remain through the power of her memory.

There was once a small ape called Peter
He was brown like the trees in your yard
He had a few spikey hairs on the top of his head
And thousands upon thousands on his arms

He wasn't just your ordinary ape though
He had big bushy eyebrows
And deep dark green eyes
He was shorter than other apes
But he didn't mind

Because he knew he was special
His mother told him so
She told him every single day
Before he would go to leave
Leave to go to ape school
To study his Ape Bee Seas

He often wondered whether,
one day she would stop
Then one day his mother did
That was once he'd grown up

And now he is a big ape he longs to hear those words
So when your mother repeats something
It's so it sinks in
and you never forget what they've told you
So pay attention and listen.