Not Proud

I’m not proud of myself at all
I hate the very word
Of what?

I’m nothing but a failure
And no… most of it’s not my choosing
Life has forced its grim face on me
Then laughed at what it created

Failure… is failure
And no
Not proud at all




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i wanted it to be
the way it is
in stories

it turns out
the same… again
his eyes that way
my ears this way

differences dividing
right down our centre

i wanted it to be
new found love
the way it often begins
and ends
in books

my heart never learns
that kind of love
those guys

are only tales



High on the hills my lungs are full
air clear as spring water
not a single sound
but the hum of inner thoughts

It is time for the journey
to completely cast off
the weight of my acquaintances
to unearth the strayed self

To be a running girl on an island
the wind beneath her hair
an assurance of change
and wings strong enough for flight



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You can guarantee, i’ll be your friend
but don’t ask me, to be your lover
you talk with too much guise
can’t take you serious dear

Look what you’ve done
you have me discarding self
got me cooking up garbage
dressing up as old time movie stars
to play the needed part

You’re an intrigue, a cheeky rat
i’d love to love you, but i’m exhausted
entirely numb to all good things
and which one of you, did you want me to love


No Fantasy Darling

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I don’t know, what makes you think
our incompatible, would be such perfection
would it not in time, wrap around our graceful throats
choke the life from flesh
leave our souls overcast, bruised and abused
although, you might like that
you seem thrilled by the fantasy of harm

It’s no fucking fantasy darling
harm is damage
no matter how
delicate the mind or the hand
and murder mysteries
are no fun entertainment
the two are akin to me

What makes you sure, you’d be content by my side
when you know I’ll be questioning your intelligence
the stories in your head have scribbled a fabrication
the stories have whispered torrid tales
whip the fiction back on the page
and tell it how naughty it’s been
you dreamed a girl, who doesn’t exist


The Darkest Hour by Saisona

I am ravaged by tiredness
stinging blinking eyes
concentration flies through windows
impending yawns
and a mind that cares for nothing

Insomnia is a wicked visitor
only those who’ve friended it
know how its vines fetter
and leave you wondering
who you are



A friend is losing his sight today
he says, silence is death
and music, has become the comforter

I thought of you today
the tragedy, of a mother’s world fading
how music kept you sane, in the dark

Music is my friend today
tomorrow, and always
my sanity hangs on every note


43f2b975f1aeb4e5c9d29d3d588a25d8I could quite literally, submerge into you
still, the question remains
would it be a wholesome drowning?

I’m hopeful I won’t entirely disappear
I happen to like who I am

You’re declaring your love again
like a lonesome bird in the tree tops
singing your songs, flustering my ears

When were you thinking of drowning in me?
and if you do, would you need me to save you?



0f1311d352567944d52c2bdb2a789117I’m not the kind of girl who enjoys
being understood
I wear the essence of mystery
like the finest perfume
so don’t think you can get so close
I’ll become glass
I really won’t
I simply cannot

should be my first name
it’s the only version
you’ll get
the only me
you’ll ever come to know


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I see all your voices
and hear your masks
they swarm my head like bees
I am spinning

Your intentions
leave me unbalanced
your truths
immerse me in grief

My skin is mine
it is seeking freedom
I am peeling you away
before you become I