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sun Feb 2020
it seems like every time you see me,
you flip a penny.
will you be angry?
or will you be as sweet as honey?

i still remember that day
when you dressed me up
and looked at me as if i took out all of life's grey
and left you with lilacs and buttercups.

i still remember when
you gave me clothes for teddy
the smile on your face when you brought those out again,
the clothes from when i was a baby.

of course, everything was simpler then.
you didn't have to deal with my stupid mistakes
you didn't know i would become such a burden
i'm sorry that i caused all this ache.

i'm sorry i couldn't be better.
i'm sorry i couldn't hold onto the final thread
that held us together.
i'm sorry that there's nothing for us ahead.

i'm sorry.
sun Oct 2019
i've been asking for problems
because i haven't prayed to Him
this is his way of punishing me,
giving me a perfect paradise on earth
that's tearing at the seams
i don't want to live
i can't be who you want me to be

it's been difficult
she keeps telling me it'll get better
why do i keep falling for a web of lies
that slowly wraps itself around my neck
choking me
the life leaves my eyes.
and so do my demons

finally i'm free
and i'm stuck in a perfect paradise
that's tearing at the seams
sun Oct 2019
I envy the stars
who are silent spectators to life.
They watch everything unfurl,
they watch as my parents' words cut through me like a knife.
I'm only a little girl
yet I've already seen and heard a lot.
They want to hurt my brother
and to my stomach my heart drops.
He's 22 and I've seen him cling to our mother,
sobbing, begging for a life that's much better
than this.

I feel like a star,
a silent spectator to life.
I can't do anything to help him,
He's alone
and so am I.
sun Oct 2019
Everything I do, it's all for you.
But now, everything I do doesn't matter
because it won't bring you back,
you've made my heart shatter.

That last look into my eyes,
conveying all your love,
despite my constant cries,
not to do it, not to jump.

You've left me all alone
in this godforsaken world
as I lay by your gravestone
and I'm with you only in a dreamworld.
sun Sep 2019
dear politicians,

stop weaving a web of excuses to save our planet.

climate scientists have warned that we only have 12 years to limit a climate change catastrophe.
in 12 years, i'll be 26.
i'll have left university,
finally gotten the hang of my job
and all that will immediately be snatched away
because you don't want to stop spinning your wheel of excuses. you say you're doing all you can, but are you?
because i think we're failing.
every night i stare up at the ceiling and think about how because of your selfishness,
my life may be cut short.
stop whitewashing everything.

world peace and chaos are on two sides of a coin.
every time a new catastrophe is presented,
you flip the coin
and the world holds its breath
only for it to always land on chaos.

i want to be a teacher.
i want to teach tomorrow's children.
but why am i studying for a future that might not even be mine to have?
every day my prospects are slowly slipping away.
i'm being taught that money is the most important thing in my life.
work is more important than my well-being.

so in 12 years when i'm 26,
i want us to have limited this climate change catastrophe.
and i will teach tomorrow's children
that my well-being is more important than my work
and money is not the most important thing in my life.

we will be the spiders
that weave the web of truth and peace.
not you.
we will leave the world in a better place than we found it
for the future generation.
sun Sep 2019
The Japanese have a method called Kintsugi,
or golden joinery
which is the art of repairing broken pottery with gold.

She is a Russian doll,
shedding her old self
for a new one
each time she looks in the mirror and
hates what she sees.

She is porcelain,
cracking with every gesture,
every comment, word,
every snide remark.

But that's the beauty of Russian dolls.
Every time she shatters,
a new her steps out timidly,
squinting her eyes at
the bright bathroom light,
mesmerised by the yellow of it,
wondering how she's never come across it
in her dark chrysalis of abuse.
How could something be so beautiful and guiding
yet pierces her sight with every glance?

The remnants of the old-her
cuts her skin
as she picks them up
and pieces them together
with pure gold acting as cement.

A thin smile is plastered onto the dolls's newly-repaired face
as it is picked up and placed onto a shelf
with all its old selves
and they are ready to comply.
sun Jun 2019
she soaks herself in his hurt
and it d
     ­       s                

of him
ever so slowly,
infecting her.
all she wanted was for him to be
so he could live without pain
but now, she thinks
living is pain.

— The End —