I live in the future but also the past, constantly caught between the two.
Thinking about the things I wish I could change,
Whilst worrying about what has yet to come…

I wake here daily
but home doesn't sound like this
I'm a stranger here

I am veiled. I am an insomniac.
I am a lot of raindrops on window glass.
I am the treasure that is hidden in dunes.
I am the screeching winds on dreary nights.
I am the blossoming trees on a warm spring.
I am your welcoming sight on a starry night.
Do not stand at my final resting place and shed bitter tears.
I am far away. I did not fall asleep.

Please do not take it personally
when I reel away from the world
and from you.
When I disappear without a word.

It is simply my way of saying.
That I am healing in my own ways.
I do not blame you
and I never would.

Please never put yourself at fault
for it is no ones burden but my own.
You have only shown me kindness in my struggle
but this is something that only I can deal with on my own.

And I can promise you that things will turn out okay for me.
There is no need for you to risk your own heart
for things you have no control over
with your own tears you have to mend.

I can promise you that I can save myself.

-Kore

I fear that one day, I will run out of words.
I fear that there will come a time
when every word I speak, write or think falls flat and bland.
That the meaning will be stripped,
and all intentions will be rendered dull after years of use.
My writings and work will be repetitive, a pointless task… a fading chant.
The cycle continues, with no way of slowing.
I drag my feet, digging them into the earth,
but still it moves. My heels are so ******, and my blisters are festering.
My fear is already growing so large,
that even before half of my life has gone,
my words have already begun to run out.
How am I fading so quickly?
How long until I vanish completely?
Will any part of me remain?
With everything I have barely done.
I’m beg, beg, begging you. Please.
I need my words to linger, just a little longer.

A Child full of wonder comes home
And hangs her coat on a peg
She hangs her backpack
Her scarf and her mittens on a string
the new friends she made
the smell of a spring and freshly baked biscuits
And the sound of Mrs Townsend taking the register
She puts her headband on the peg, with her name painted on it in silver
And her jumper with her name sewn inside
The whirr of the acorn computer and the flash of coloured pencils
The shyness and worry about not fitting in
The wish to be seen but not be the centre of attention
The worry about nightmares coming true
The realisation that everything just like the day has to come to an end
I will always love you
She longed for a skipping rope
She ties the rope securely around the peg
How sturdy with all this weight
She stares at the peg proudly
She thought about her day and her hopes and her worries
and thought about how heavy they can sometimes feel
So she knows this peg is doing a great job
At taking the load