If I was plasticine,
Would you see my potential and mould me,
Or would you crush me under your boot,
Roll me in your hands,
Or just make me part of a colourful dinosaur?

Naked, I sit in the meadow,
It rains, my torso gets wet,
Some days my foliage protects me better than others,
Yet when summer comes, I can feel but too hot.
I am never happy, even when I have visitors,
Never more alone than when surrounded by those unlike me,
Wishing forever to be mobile,
Wishing forever not to be Tree.

Close your eyes, you tell me,
Think back to a better time,
Feel those feelings, smell the smells,
Hear the laughs,
Smile at the innocence of it all.

But my life's never been filled with innocence -
Every moment in my past is either a blur, forgotten, or tarnished with hurt,
And hate,
And being hated,
And hating myself.

There is no special moments of long summer days -
At least, none which don't trigger memories of harm and abuse,
And so, I'm not an innocence fan.
How can I be, when I'm no innocent man?

Your good book couldn't save me as I saw the abyss,
Yet your rage, and fury and bile drew me to Hell,
And I saw that Hell is so subjective.

Looking down at a thousand souls screaming,
Writhing, drowning, dying,
I realised that they were all my own.

I looked back at a life battered,
Burned, scorched earth,
Filled with constant plagues that I hadn't earned.

I tried to reach for help – my sides, the sky, the ground,
But there was no voice from above, nobody beside me, and no ground below me,
I just hovered in stasis.

Is this your 'purgatory'?
I doubt it, because that's how I'd describe my life;
Just one bitter, broken period of waiting for something every worse.

Every emotional floor, cracking bones like cracking thunder,
Heart shattered by lightning, eyes torn out as pennance,
It was all so ******* biblical.

I watch you, you villain,
See you creeping, stalking,
Making nice, taking notes,
Preparing to make them yours.
Seen, but unseen,
Hiding in plain sight;
Your snake tongue conniving,
Laying the path for stealing lives.
Your eyes betray you, you villain,
To me, your intentions are clear.
They may not see you, you villain,
But I see you standing here.
I look you in your eyes,
You smile,
I don’t.
In my dreams, I place a hand on your shoulder,
And a gun to your head,
And end their pain forever.

Outside the sun smiles brightly,
But I am dark.
Light filters mockingly into the room,
But I am in pain.
The room is whitened by the glowing rays,
My room is darkened by despair.
Snatches of sunlight appear on the tops of the chairs:
On the chairs in my world the devil sits.
The sun brings light and heat and rules this world,
Fear and deprivation rule mine.
This great yellow ball brings love and happiness,
Red flames are my only light.
Where others are loved,
I am scorned,
Where others are warm,
I am cold,
Where others are found,
I am lost.
This is the contrast.

Are you hearing me?
I'm not sure I ever see me.
At moments like this words seem so very empty,
Ringing around the empty halls,
Bouncing off the walls,
Echoing my soul,
Killing me like the ghost I already am.

The hill pulls me backwards;
My legs ache, I can go on no further,
But somehow there is the energy to retreat,
As I fall victim to gravity, and tumble, run and spiral back to where I began.

Except, this time, I begin again in more pain than before,
More broken, less able to climb.
The hill looks bigger, much more daunting,
And my mind screams at me to stay put.

But isn't life about conquering hills,
Whatever the gravity of our reality is,
Regardless of how gravity wants to chain us down,
Pull us back to our point of supposed no return?

Maybe the aches, the pain, the sense of despair;
Maybe that's just part of the game,
And it's not those with the strongest legs who reach the top,
But those with the strength to simply go again.

I love travelling,
Journeying afar,
Not broadening my mind, per se,
But broadening my inner log of miles travelled,
Giving me stories to tell the friends I hope to have,
The friends I dream of as I sit alone in distant hotel rooms,
Ordering meals for one,
Praying for somebody to see me.

I could spew words,
But they don't mean a thing;
Not in this worst moment of pain.
All I can do is hug my children tighter tonight,
Count my blessings,
All the while mourning yours.
But is the chill that runs through me a selfish grief?
A need to express myself, to relate my own fears to your loss?
Not a gift, not to ease your pain,
But to try in vain to understand my own?
I don't feel lucky, I feel guilty,
Because it's so close to home right now,
And it reminds you just how precarious life is,
How precious,
Yet how dictated by forces beyond our control.
My god, I am sorry for your loss.