I came across lost paper,
the waters washed it ashore.
The letters on it a fervent thing,
I could hear the whispers,
in my ear I know they witnessed me feel.
The shaken boys screams inside me aloud.
Say see the face,
stay clear of that darkened yet glowing smile.
Says it’s that ice that burns wild like dragon fire.
That it’s that dark essence that eludes your senses.
It’s the smile already fallen from grace into depravity,
nothing you can take any further than the darkness it already is.
She the siren whose voice never sleeps,
my mind her orchestra.
She plays the blues.
In this house,
my fragile house made up of too many broken bricks.
Stained, without colour,
a plethora of dark corners that should have never existed.
I see the journey ahead,
then count the steps like my upward thoughts would make me forget about my fall after.
Like the sound of her voice was never the right note,
like she always made sad music in the words that she spoke.
The winds that blow from the East remind me of sad places.
ghosts of things that were and were not.
Fires that burned bared skin,
but not the ground long enough to make them known.
I get cut in places they never realise have been cut before,
like the smile I’d give them was just a distraction.
Like the feelings inside,
that danced around were the real enemy that I’d tried to ignore.
I’d ignore the mirrors,
the broken ones too,
anything that would reflect,
because I’d feel enough darkness inside to wanna see the raging war.
like good guys should.
And pick up the lost paper,
that these waters washed ashore.