Anywhere,
but here,
the birds sing songs,
of freedom.
Anywhere,
but here,
the children laugh,
and play games.
Anywhere,
but here,
the air is clean,
and the stars bloom.
Anywhere,
but here,
lovers love,
and love is enough.

I let the words,
burn inside of me,
knowing why.
I can not save,
the water from the flames,
and I wish I could.
I remember the smell of your skin,
I remember everything,
the day the phone didn't ring.
The people drive,
walk,
ride,
to their empty jobs.
Jobs they don't know why they are a part of.
Though you are missing.
The piece that's fallen from the picture,
but nobody has noticed.
I notice,
though.
The only letter you ever wrote me,
sits lifeless in my pocket.
I don't know what it really says,
at all.
I don't know why you said goodbye to me,
and not your mother,
or your father.
My house,
it feels,
quiet.
My heart,
it feels,
quiet,
too.
I still visit the park,
and sit against our tree.
It's the only time I feel close to you,
again.
I let the words,
burn inside of me,
knowing why.
I can not save,
the water from the flames,
and I wish I could.

My body is a body of blue,
of brilliance,
of power,
of great depth too.
My hands they weave,
and rise,
and bend,
until the lives,
of many end.
My face is invisible,
strong,
and tricky.
It changes,
and whips,
and turns hair sticky.
My heart does lie,
in a ribcage of sand,
that beats,
and convulses,
‘til it moves the land.
My warning is obvious,
but often looked past,
as small boats turn over,
whilst my hands take the mast.

Full stops feel certain,
confident,
real.
Full stops feel,
professional,
definite,
like a final seal.
But full stops aren't caring,
nurturing,
or kind.
And like life,
full stops,
don't put ease to my mind.

Falling in and out of consciousness.
Looking in the mirror again,
turning away;
Disgust.

A constant commotion of thoughts in my head,
being turned over and over until they are dead;
Until they are free.

Wondering why I am this way,
I fall again.
Nothing makes sense anymore.

Their dead eyes fall on me,
and I feel nothing from them.
So helpless and stuck they seem.

Cars pass by,
the rain violating their windows.
Everything has lost it's colour.

Remembering the yellow in your voice,
the orange in your laughter.
I let the emptiness surround me,
curling up into a ball of regret,
and guilt,
and everything else that has killed the sun.

I will hear your voice once more,

before I forget,

everything.

At school,
I sit and listen to my teachers,
And I wonder if they are happy.
Mr. S puts thoughts into my head,
I don't like it.
But I pretend,
so I do not 'fail'.
Ms. A writes words on the empty board,
I do not see them.
I only copy them down,
wishing that she would smile.
The text book I carry around,
burdens me.
I wonder how it can be so heavy,
and so meaningless at once.
A girl stares at me,
and her eyes narrow sharply.
Maybe she is angry at her mum.
Sometimes,
I look out the window.
And I imagine the wind blowing softly,
the sun warming my face.
Mrs. B claps at me,
a string of words following.
I feel like I am rotting,
never gaining,
always losing parts of myself.
It's always cold.
Other kids look just like me,
too.
When they pass,
I secretly miss them,
they could empathise.
I am shaken,
poked,
and kicked.
Then I am dead.

I lose a part of myself,
each day.
The sun smiles,
and I can't smile back.
I only feel,
sometimes.
And that is the worst part;
feeling.
I understand,
each world.
But I haven't quite found,
mine.
The blankets,
don't quite comfort me.
And the light,
doesn't quite reach me.
The slow ache grows,
and grows
until my heart eats itself.
So I sit,
and I write.
And I find myself,
whole again.