Young Writers Society

as we sat without acting
the tarnish became
just another colour on the patchwork of our life
it wasn't threatening
almost beautiful in fact
we didn't forget about the darkness in the night
it stayed with us all our life
but it became a part of us

There was a fire in her soul
burning burning consuming
all

Everyone could see
the flame blazing bright

The destruction of her heart
smouldering smouldering turning
to ash

They saw the warmth,
the stifling heat

And not her self slowly
wasting wasting melting
away

And before they knew
she had combusted

could you show me what to do
with my arms and my feet?
i fell out of the neatly constructed
society boxes
and now i'm not quite sure
how to move around
i saw you marching by
blazing unique regalia
and thought maybe you could help
you seem to have been in my situation
but first tell me, if you please,
is this freedom
or just a bigger box than before?

arrive at that point in life
where it feels like i'm sitting on a broken bone
it hurts to move
hurts to breathe
hurts to think
hurts

and i wish i could write
with a sense of urgency and desperation because that's all i feel
but it falls flat and is barely real

and i'm not sure if i'm making sense because
i'm stringing words into sentences but the replies aren't filtering through
the blocks in my ears and every second of every day
i feel like one more drop
one more drop
one. more. drop.
and i will spill over and my mask will fail
and people will see

and i cannot be the one who is not alright
because i am the strong one
i am their pillar
that's what they said
not realising how much that hurt and that felt good
because i want to be relied on
but i want to rely on them
but i cannot because
the mask is fixed too hard onto my face and i'm not sure i can ever take it off

when the world comes to silence
you will find me in a corner
with my hand over my ears to
deafen the endless noise

it's so very hard to strike a balance
between sound and nothing at all
it is the singularity of oblivion
to seek the accompaniment of creation

and let it not be shorthand for the
end of all i know
love, we missed the train to nowhere
and we're lost in infinity