A promise to be,
A shoulder to cry on

A loving hand
To pick you up when you fall

A warm heart
When your heart's feeling cold

A friend who'll still love you
Even when we've grown old

An ear to listen
To your worries and fears

A warm gentle hand
To wipe away any tears

Whatever will be,will be
And there's nothing we can do
But you'll always have me
My friendship promise to you

How loud did I have to scream to be seen?
As the dirt fills my lungs I forget what It feels like to breathe
I became a ghost searching for the light that never came.
Someone turn the lights out, I'm too tired to stay awake.

We are critical.

We find flaws in
everything we see
because nobody
wants to write
about perfection,
even though sometimes
we wish we could just stay
staring into that
unblemished surface.

2. We are never satisfied.

We live our lives upon
mountains of
scrunched up
bits of refill and
ideas we gave up
trying to
express.

3. We never forget.

We write words about
eye contact made
three months ago
that we replay over
and over in our minds
even though it
stopped
being relevant.

4. We are fickle.**

Our emotions flash
from one
to the other
like strobe lighting that
disorientates us
until we feel as if
the world
will never be still.

5. We are exposed.

We don't know how
to keep our feelings
to ourselves so
we'll write them
down for
you to find
'accidentally'.

6. We are vulnerable.

We wear our
hearts on our sleeves
and won't lift a
muscle to fight back
if somebody tries
to break it
because we thrive
from the pain.

7. We will never stop.

We will never stop
feeling and
we will never stop
hurting,
we will never stop
breaking and
bleeding and
loving
even though the cycle
is endless
and we know what's
coming next.


We are addicted
to agony,
but we agonise
for the art.