Imagine this


You’ve just got in from a long day at school. You open your front door having walked home, but the house is empty. All the lights are off and from the darkness, your dog, your childhood best friend, greets you happily. His tail is wagging so fast, beating from wall to wall and his expression is of pure delight, as if you’d been gone for weeks.
Slowly, you trudge up the stairs and past all of the baby photos that hang wearily on the cream coloured wall. You look so happy there, so full of life and there are pictures of you and your brothers playing joyfully and on family holidays abroad. Your eyes sparkle a bright, piercing blue and your brunette hair is long as it curls over your shoulders and down your back. Your brother is there, with his matching blue eyes and a beaming smile. He’s wearing…

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Being bipolar isn’t all the hype people big it up to be- it’s not that one minute you’re ridiculously happy and the next you want to murder someone, no.
To me, it means that I have the capability to be very happy but within minutes, my mood might deteriorate. I don’t know if it’s just being coupled with my depression, but that’s what it is to me.
It’s generally noticeable when I’m beginning to turn, as I’m sure my friends good tell you, but unfortunately there’s nothing I can to do prevent the certain unhappiness that is to follow. Occasionally tears form in my eyes, but the classic sign is that I go completely silent and just stare. I just stare at nothing or right through people and then it kicks in.
As I mentioned, it could just be that I’m chronically depressed and I do feel ecstatic from time…

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A Work in Progress

cor meum

Those late-night conversations are what I miss most. Those baring soul-to-soul exchanges.The way the early morning hours encourage honesty and bravery, that the regular day-time simply does not. How “I love you”, “I want you” and “Fuck you” all seem to glide off the tongue. Effortlessly. Ordinarily.

There’s something sacred about being awake with someone, when sleep has enveloped the rest of the world.
Something undoubtedly more private.

Our eyelids linger, longer with each blink. Sticky. Willing us to keep them shut. But sleeping would mean missing out on this. Missing out on you.
Even though it’s long since been extinguished, we continue to light this toxic, exhausted flame.
Occasionally only, when self-righteousness reaches the end of its thread, and we need a guilt-drenched fix.

Sleep slurs our speech. Hanging heavily on our tongues. A hopeful reminder. That instead of slumber, we choose each other, even if just for…

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The war to end all wars


I’m fighting this war- shells jump in the smoke of my mind and gunfire sounds long through the night. Children cry as I stand; a silhouette as the war rages on as the distant memories of loved ones fade. My thoughts are abandoned and fill the streets as homeless men and women that long to be found. Figures die before me as I lay in the hole among the dirt and the flames fill the buildings that once housed a happy soul.

The war rages endlessly, as if there will be no end and the dying fill another day with screams and howls that plague my mind and replay for hours, sometimes days. But the effects will never lift and a shattered soul will never be stitched without the cracks being seen.

Inside my head, I’m a woman and a soldier, but at times I see through this little girls…

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My biggest fear is being left alone. For people to forget me. To lose me or hate me. I can not explain why I am so terrified of it all & that is what scares me the most.
Being afraid is never what I wanted to be, but now it is who I have become. Around every corner someone is out to get me. Behind every word spoken is an underlying intention to leave me, stranded.
But yet I have never stopped to wonder…that maybe I am the one out to get myself.

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You Are My Oblivion


You came unannounced one day
Disguised as a wingless angel
And little did I know
You were the last missing puzzle piece

I kissed your nicotine lips
An irreplaceable drug
You filled my lungs with air
Yet slowly killing me with poison

You taught me what love feels like
And then how it feels to lose it
You showed me who I was
And who I really am

You weren’t mine to begin with
And not to end with
You looked like everything I wanted
And then something I hated

Have you ever felt so broken
Have you ever felt so lost
Have you ever closed yourself
When you used to be so open

Not a day goes by without you on my mind
Not a day goes by without me suffocating
Some days I hated every thought of you
Some days I miss you more than most

They say…

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This Is Who I Am


I’m a picture without a frame.
A poem without a rhyme.
A body without a soul
A mind without a home
A life without a purpose
A car running on three wheels.
A sun without fire.
A book without an author
I am a gun without bullets.
I am the truth without someone to hear
I am a feeling without someone to feel it
This Is Who I Am
A mess without you
Something beautiful with you

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