There are some people
Who you can't imagine
Ever having a future with
But then there are some
You can see
So clearly
You can imagine them at the top of an aisle
You can imagine them cooking in the kitchen
You can imagine them playing with your children
You can imagine what it would feel like to come home to them
But you never tell them
Because, let's face it
You'd be scared if someone said that to you

On the first day,
I feared the start.
On the second day,
I feared the end.
After a week,
I feared the weekends.
After a fortnight,
I feared the holidays.
Now?
I fear the day I leave school,
And I'll be forced to leave you behind.

Yellow
when the trumpets sound
Blue
for the apocalypse is coming
Green
everything is dying
Red
i'm falling to the ground
Orange
for the dying sky
Brown
for the day we will all die
Pink
nothing left to say
Purple
your tongue has been torn off anyway
because you do not deserve to talk
your mouth holds those unwanted words
******* away to be heard
do you not see the colours?
do you not feel the wind?
the earth is dying, burning, freezing
this ice inferno to begin
but all you think about are
words

A boy leans against his door,
Torn by the grief and loss created by his own mind,
Tear stained cheeks that never knew a smile.

The boy falls to the floor,
The door is blocked by his own weight,
He is trapped by his body in a room cut off from kindness.

The boy hits his head against the wall,
In a futile attempt to escape this life,
His head begins to throb, a confused mess of screaming voices fill his ears.

Then one voice is clear,
Calling him,
Leading him,
He feels safe, sure, free,
He finds himself calling back,
"I trust you." He says, raising his eyes from the floor,
"I trust you," She replies, but that's not what he heard.
"Open the door," Is what he heard, words he'd never even considered.

He lifts himself up, and grabs for the lock,
With a moment of hesitation, he slides the bolt across.
But he can't bring himself to do it, he looks at the handle,
He puts his hand on it and tries to push down.

But his other hand stops him, grabbing at his wrist,
He is so close now, but he can't do it,
He takes two steps back, away from hope,
And the door swings wide open, light streams in,
With a smile she grabs his hand, and pulls him from his cell.

He sees an open door behind her, a room as dark as his,
"How did you get out?" He asks, she just laughs and squeezes his hand.
"One clear voice, calling, leading," She whispers in his ear,
"It told me to open the door."

My head isn't bare
So trouble i'm hiding
You assume
Under my scarf
Within my hair
Yeah, of course that's true
Because feelings i don't have
And to care i never do
WOW what some people
Sophisticated much
in wardrobe and appealing,
But how about
thoughts and some feelings?