you're scared of what there is,
what you can tangibly measure,
but were you to open your eyes,
i think you'd realise that none of it would matter.

you're afraid of what they think of you,
you're scared you've made enemies,
you're worried you're alone
and you're too nervous to let anyone in.

but if you could only look up,
and see not the clusters of stars,
not the links you see holding everything else
to its companion

but see the emptiness,
see the gaps in the fabric of everything,
see how big the dark spaces actually are
where nothing conceivable could exist

then maybe it could help you
put things into proportion
and maybe you could see
how little it matters

we are but less than a speck
of something
in a vast sea of nothing
of empty space and darkness

and maybe it's possible
that as a whole we are more,
but you are just you,
and they are just them

so sweetheart,
lift up your heavy head
to the sky and look, harder.
things aren't that bad

and it will get easier.
just as everything up there
has made a link
you will make yours, eventually.

I looked into your eyes
And it felt as though they were
A direct window
Into space, and the galaxies
And the constellations
Unfolded before my very eyes,
Each star the twinkling
Like the little lights
That hang from my walls.

And as I looked deeper,
All of a sudden,
I realised that if my world were to fall apart around me,
It would be alright
Because I could still come home
And look at you
And there would be endless worlds
I could fall into.

I want you to remember
That to write
Is to express yourself,
The flicks on your n's
And the loops on your f's
Show me the inner workings of your mind.
When she sent that letter,
There should have been tears on the page,
You should have been able to see
The corners had been folded and torn,
And the paper was *****, crumpled,
And covered in coffee stains.
You couldn't see any of that, though,
Because she chose to send it to you
In the form of a small series of lights,
Accumulated on a screen
To mimic a cold,
Soulless version of herself.
Maybe it's because she didn't want you to know
What was actually going on.

If your eyes
Do not look to the sun,
Then I wonder where it is
They look
To view the beauty of this world.

As I look around me,
All I see is poverty,
Cowering next to immense greed,
People begging
At the feet of those who have far more than they could ever need,
And yet still refuse to share it.
I see the people walking past,
Blind to the injustice of what is happening,
And ignorant to the extent to which they are controlled.

And even still, I see the grey shadows all around me,
Clouding my own view,
Blocking me from the world through which I travel.
And so I wonder,
How can you know beauty
If you've never even seen the sun?

Drag me from this darkened pit
To that eternal bliss you promised
For I can no longer bare
The long, sharp fingers of the fire,
Licking my body
And peeling the skin slowly away,
Or those frightened wails
From those empty shells
Who are still new to this land,
To this existence
And who cannot understand why they are here.
Grip me tight and raise me from perdition,
O how my eyes do sting
From the sulphuric smoke that suffocates them,
And how my nose does flare
At the smell of the ash and bone
And how my ears do swell at the sound of that voice,
Please, just let me know you remember I once was.

It's coming.
What I've been told to look forward to,
My entire childhood up until this point,
That this will be the greatest time of my life,
That I will build all of my happiest memories in these next four years.
And now it's almost arriving,
And I am scared.

When you're scared,
You like to take control of everything.
You will do anything and everything you can to stay on top,
And I know you wish I reacted the same way,
But I don't.
I shy away, I procrastinate, and I try to ignore my problems,
This rising fear I have growing in my stomach,
Which is not full of butterflies, but of bees.

I will do it,
I know I will, I want to more than anything,
But it would really help,
If,
For now,
You could leave that bit to me?
I will find my own motivation, I promise.

I was always too young to understand what was actually going on in your head,
Though I don't think even you knew completely.
You wouldn't tell us about it though;
We were children,
Too naive,
You didn't want us thinking about that kind of thing anyway.
The closest I got to understanding,
Was the time you cried,
The only time I had ever seen you crack.
She wasn't there to help us out,
So we sat with you,
We cuddled,
And I handed you some tissues,
But you didn't explain.
We were too young to understand that kind of thing anyway.
There's always been a part of me that thought I was your favourite.
I was always your little princess,
I could get away with anything.
But I think my stubbornness as a child scared you a little,
I hadn't mean to make you upset that time,
But she was much easier to entertain,
And easier to get along with.
I think you interpreted that as her being my favourite.
And though I've grown out of that stubbornness,
I think you still think the same thing;
You've not got enough confidence to understand this kind of thing anyway.
When I said goodbye the other day,
Though I don't think you saw it,
I was on the verge of tears.
Sometimes I worry you don't quite realise how much you mean to me,
That I don't have favourites,
And those worries make it so much harder to leave.
I don't speak about it with you often,
It would be a strange conversation for me to have,
But if you knew how much I spoke about you to everyone,
If you knew how highly I thought of you as a person,
Not just as my father,
I think it would help you come round.
But we're not around each other enough for that to happen,
And I think there's a part of you that's still too stuck in your head to understand that kind of thing anyway.