I am a child,
wrapped in cheap paper.
I'm tearing
at every edge.
I tape myself back together,
but I rip in a different place,
and I stare at it.
I feel my body scream in pain as I grin at a
stranger.
The wound is festering,
it's puce with grime.
It's growing and expanding forth from torn scars
that I've tried to heal with butterfly bandages.
But, every time the butterflies bite my skin,
after using their wings to keep
my laceration
from ripping further,
I use the bird that is my fingernail to pick at the scab,
and watch as the butterfly tumbles to the ground,
joining a thousand carcasses laid strewn next to me.

They're shrivelled and crisp,
scattered in disarray.

I hear them apologise,
for not staying so long.

A 14 year old tender,
Came with a situation
He can’t decide his gender
Social keys challenging perception.

A prof. got suspended from his job
Coz he can’t love a woman in the ****
His feelings for affection were just like us
But for men, that he can’t discuss.

A girl of 25 don’t want to marry
Coz she love her girlfriend back in bury
She know it’s impossible to do this
As the law prevent love between two fairies

Now the question arises
If love has no boundaries
Why our brains are in cages?
As metals are casted in a foundry
God has made us in different pages.

We all pray equally
As do lesbians and gays
We all love equally
As do Bisexuals and Transgender
We all make friends evenly
As any girl or a boy
So why we can’t love legally?

Think and make others think
We all are humans, catch the link.

I can't change what you believe,
but if you could just see me in a different light,
and love girls like me I'd be thankful,
because you give me that look,

the look that makes my heart stutter.

Another year without you,
Seventeen years of no kisses at midnight
and counting.

Without her
What am I supposed to do?
Words lose their meaning.
Taste
Sight
Sound
Touch.
Without her
What do I have?
Bland
Darkness
Silence
Emptiness.
Without her.

Tears are water to the soul,
and yet I seem to overwater it.
I must have misread the info booklet
on how to keep it thriving,
and instead burnt it along
with the pictures of us.

She was my nightmare
dressed as a wish,
and still, I let her kiss me,
and steal my heart.

As I breathe my last breath,
and the water fills my lungs,
I turn and see a boy;

He is drowning
and no one can see him

except me.

The idea of my human worthlessness is dragging me down.

I think about it for the best part of an hour,
only managing to read three pages of my book in that time,

I'm sorry.

I'm just simply being swallowed up by the lack of water surrounding me.
I'm sick of the endless stream of chatter that isn't coming out of my ******* mouth.
I'm sick of the looks no one is giving me because they don't actually see me.

They see a figure,
hunched over,
reading a book.

The book has no words.

He sits next to you on the train.
Your heart flushes as he smiles your way.
There's something about him that draws you in,
maybe it's his dreamy hair,
that seems to shine in the morning sun,
or maybe it's the book he was reading,
or maybe it was his hollow eyes,
the ones with the rings under them that makes him
look like he's three weeks past bedtime.
His four patches on his blue, denim jacket,
each with sassy comments on them, stating his hatred for Trump,
or his place as a Feminist?

The colourless rainbow tattoo on his wrist,
next to a heart.

It has her name on it.
And you sit and wonder...

Am I her?

You aren't.

You're not his tattoo,
the one that sits on his wrist.
A name that is passed carelessly throughout the carriages,
The name that stops at the platform.

You are a gentle thought,
unravelled in the minds of others,
growing and nurturing,
exuberating kindness as you do so.

You are not his tattoo,
but a garden,
soon to flourish and grow stronger,
toughening through harsh winters.

You are not his.

You are an evergreen mass,
you were born to live
and you thrive as you do so.