What if I died-
Today, tomorrow?
Later?
What weight does it have
Gravity; all that sorrow?

The weight of it all-
Pain, fear, love, happiness, and
All other emotions of all sorts
Suddenly turn to mist;
A weightless,
Dream.

Was I wrong to feel things too deeply?
When every single thing-
That mattered too deeply
Is bound to be a faded memory?
What does strength in this life even mean,
To those eventual weightless dreams?

Perhaps, it is a curse
That when I pause
And breathe
It felt okay
To feel,
And to feel deeply
Even when it is all bound to be
A weightless, faded memory.

The womb is a tomb
              of contemplation.

Where birth is a reality,
                of perspective.

And death is a realisation,
             that nothing lasts forever.

If a light is turned
on but  
         never shine,s
into the opposing room.

Was it ever switched
                        on at all.


Or was the conclusion
         That there
was no
         bulb.


Because if  the light didn't
    aluminate beyond
         its surroundings.

Was there ever a light
      In the first place.

Even though I sank below
         the fatigue of life.

I was never worn,
         instead I was steadfast.

Never being eroded by others
             singular erosion.

I was more than your reflection,
                 never eroding beneath your gaze..

Claustrophobic meetings of
                   myself in the mirror.

I'm shut in this refection,
               when I know this
          isn't me..

Pain attacks of a realization,
                       I'm stuck in this
         obituary of looks..
                        I scream only seeing within..

Words they seem to cut the soul, in rigid angry stages. Always wondering if it'll fade, along the body that still ages.

I see the scars marking me, burned into skin with hate. Never able to escape that frame, when to little was too late.

You can see it in my reflection now, I'm worn away with time. Lost in translation is stolen youth, a perception that once left me blind.

Men look at me and think they know, because the scars I have to bare. Intimacy so hard to find, because my self worth was never there.

Twisted images in faded memories, when I once was pure perfection. Now I see a distorted me, when I gaze at my own reflection.

I'm a fish that's trying to fly
There's so much air out here, I feel like i'm drowning
I thought I knew my way around
But the water is just not the place to be
It's so hard to adapt in this hydrophobic sea
The water's boiling so there's no turing back
I just wish I had these wings which I lack
I wish I knew my way around
And that it weren't the sea to which I was bound

Why do we feign such rapturous delight,
in pretence to others that all is alright,
what if the soul is quietly suppressed,
cloaked in darkness, hidden and repressed,

Are we ashamed to drape the veil,
to retreat into darkness and embrace the pale,
truth can be found from deep in a frown,
so why wear the clothes and tears of a clown.

© H V Swan