Friday, 21 August 2015


The scariest thing
About letting yourself go
Is letting people know
You're emotional.

And when you cry every night
And wish you would die,
Where are they
Telling you
To hold on,
Stay strong?
No where.
They are no where to be found.
No, they don't make a sound.

So when they come around
In your glory days,
They don't even
Recognize your face.
It's a shame to say
They just want your fame.

But they don't even know
You're emotional.
'Cause you keep it in,
So they don't win.

But when
That one person
Comes along
And sings you
A song,
Let them in
Don't let them
Move on.

Monday, 3 August 2015


Silly me, sitting in a new class,
feeling like a social disaster. 
At the front, there's no one 
to hide behind,
no one who'll turn around 
to ask for a pen.
That first interaction-
a distraction from reclusive habits.
There is a bag and jacket
sitting in the seat behind me.
My writing is all that dares
to converse with me.
It's quiet company
amongst the chatter of my peers
the voices I wish I didn't hear.
When teacher asks our names,
and I stutter to respond
there are whispers in my ears.
Am I the only one?
Who doesn't know a soul-
who couldn't say hello, 
when that girl's smile showed?
It's not a place I'd call home,
so I keep my nose in the chicken-scratch-
reading the syllabus
silly me, in a new class,
whispering social disaster out loud.