Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Bekki Jan 2020
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
Bekki Jan 2020
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.
Couldn't decide which version I preferred!
Bekki Jan 2020
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.
Bekki Jan 2020
Tattoos are nice.

        
                                  I wish the rest of life
                                     could be illustrated.
I have two now, but I'd like more.
Bekki Jan 2020
Walking
the same trails as ever
But different now
They feel ancient
But the tarmac and paving says otherwise
So much is different now.
The road my granny used to live on feels foreign now.
Bekki Jan 2020
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
I use music to relax
Bekki Jan 2020
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.
About the time I got stuck in a kayak but also a metaphor for life, ya know?
Bekki Jan 2020
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.

— The End —