The words feel empty
as you spit them out
again
Not the first time
you've whispered along
old rhymes
like a lullaby
but the feelings pour through.

They've soothed you before,
You hope they will again

Onwards
stomping against the tufts -
grass
older than me
The knots
of a time long passed
I walk down
I walk down

Stinging kiss
of a nettle leaf against
my knees; unprotected
I walk down
I walk down

Brambles tug
my hair and arms
but I am rewarded
with the crisp tartness
of a berry.

My handwriting
                                      is like a portmanteau of my parents'

I think it fits,

but sometimes

                                            I wish it was different.

I guess that's just the way things are.
But I can change.

Walking
the same trails as ever
But different now
They feel ancient
But the tarmac and paving says otherwise
So much is different now.

Bubbles flow
past me
upended
underwater
and I struggle
against the water
plastic digging into my thighs
body betraying me
as I desperately
try
to roll.

Suicidal me
wants to die like the Queen

"peacefully in her sleep"

which
(let's face it)

is not very realistic
for a 19 year old.

Tattoos are nice.

        
                                  I wish the rest of life
                                     could be illustrated.

My handwriting looks
like a mix of
my Mum and Dad's.

              I feel like it fits.

But sometimes

    I wish it was different.

I guess that's how it is with a lot of things