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Mar 2019 · 239
Is it ?
Lydia Gurney Mar 2019
Nothings like you thought it was is it?
Does your skin shine like they told you it would?
Do your teeth sparkle like the girl in the advert told you they could?
Or can you run as fast as all the athletes you’ve seen?
Did you listen to your therapist , try not to be so keen?
Did you fall in love with the perfect guy the first time?
Does your hair fall perfectly, does it shine?
Has a tear left your face , do you ever cry ?
I mean who really knows , is it all just a lie ?
Mar 2019 · 175
Back at me
Lydia Gurney Mar 2019
The mirror into another world,
Broken by the light of day.
Woken by the gentle chimes that hit upon my bedroom window.
Drag my hollow bones like a puppet on a string
and build upon the weightless face That looks back at me beyond my mirror.

A small crack disjoints my cheek and greets me with the 100th version of my eyes illusions.
A glance is all it seems to take,
And suddenly I’m swallowed by whispers that tickle upon my eardrums and dance around my room.
Encapsulated by the noise Of empty air.

It’s just me and .. her.
That thing that looks back at me,
Not into my eyes but cutting straight through me like knife through butter.
Feed upon me and take every drop of your sweet dessert.
Yet leave me unsatisfied and begging for more.
Mar 2019 · 506
How many fish in the sea
Lydia Gurney Mar 2019
How come in a sea full of fish I can feel so alone.
Drowning in the happiness of others,
Gasping for air when I have gills to breathe.
Shiny scales bring you nothing when your heart is full of coal,
Yet the vision of another’s eyes tell a lie.

How do I see clearly when my mind is full of broken dreams and empty promises.
What do I do when the fish that are closest to me are the ones tying rocks around my fins,
Fighting hard to pull me under and possess me as their souvenir.
my every movement,
My every thought,
Controlled by me yet not mine.
Taken over by the stranger that looks my way.

Invisible thorns and poisonous darts surround what is ment to be my heart,
Yet my mind is a playground for endangered species,
Ready to inspect my every nerve ending as if I was there dinner.

How can I feel so alone...
Because no one sees me,
Too blinded by their own thoughts and mini televisions that teach them how to breathe.
If only we could take a minute ..
And just help me breathe.

— The End —