Fly on the wall

 

If you were a fly on the

walls of my mind,

or a ghost in the corner

of the borders where fear resides,

what would you see inside?

A man-shaped being, or a scared little kid,

glancing up at the moon, chewing his lip,

clicking the pen lid, writing an ode

to a kiss he once knew

in a dream he once lived.

 

Would you even begin to see

the journey I've been on?

 

What thoughts would buzz

What words would shiver where

my spine once lived before fear

left me spineless, bent double.

Gripping my liver as I bled my pain

onto the ground.

 

Would you see the growing self-worth,

a slight glow to the soil,

a seedling piercing through the earth?

 

Would you think

why waste life on a dream?

Why pour yourself away

like those unseen tears

or the drink you once escaped into?

Why is he screaming

to be released from this cage?

When the door is prised wide open,

instead, he stays chained to the page,

speaking a name to the moon,

then swooning to sleep, wrapped

in fitful lullaby tunes?

 

Why doesn't he leave?

Why does he seem so ill at ease

seeing his skin as blemished,

when all I see is a man that could flourish?

He should be holding his frame tall

sharing his heart - I've heard it call.

 

And when he's not looking

I've read the words he scrawls,

and the message is beautiful.

 

Just go out, be you,

be beautiful and true.

You have the world to explore.

So, for God's sake,

go out of the door.

I have some haunting to do,

and my friend here would

like to buzz off.

The quiet child

 

I was the quiet child in school.

 

Outside, you couldn't stop me speaking.

A million words a minute, a verbal cascade,

an unstoppable avalanche hurtling toward

an immovable wall.

 

A world of questions, observations, stories.

Stage lights on me, a captive audience,

and I wouldn't let them leave. The world

was a play, and I was the lead.

 

Inside, I was the quiet one.

I would never raise my hand,

feigning ignorance, claiming no answers,

when in truth I’d solved it on my page

long before the question faded.

But on my lips, it swayed... silent.

Inching closer to the edge, before

stepping back at the last second

and swallowing itself in haste.

 

To say anything led to the same outcome,

a vicious attack in the playground

the second the teachers turned their backs.

 

So, I stayed silent.

Until I could no longer bite my tongue.

Wounds too deep, pain too strong.

Then I stood

and I spoke, and I spoke, and I spoke.

And the world heard.

 

I won't stop now.

My words can heal, they can hold,

they can question; they can mould.

They can create; they can destroy.

They are powerful - not a toy.

They bring hope, they bring joy.

So, I’ll not stop.

Not like that scared little boy.

She plays the cards

 

She plays the cards,

and lays them down to me,

a game of chance,

of fate, of destiny,

of walking through gates

or standing outside facing in,

to breathe. A future wish

cast into my hands.

 

I roll the dice - dare to advance?

For life sits only feet

from where the day greets eternity,

and I would lay my soul at her feet

for the chance

to play my heart to her beat,

and see the future through

those eyes that shine so gloriously.

I hear a key jangling, an echoing

ringing across the stars.

 

Let me in.

 

I've walked among you for so long,

that my once comatose heart

has started to bloom.

 

And I hear the bells

of the church in the distance,

and for a second of memory,

I'm taken back to childhood...

A walk beside a cemetery,

through leafy village streets.

And the chime

comes heavy and deep,

and the face in my mind's eye,

green grotesque, a fairytale creature,

and I want to flee, fear in my lungs,

desperate to

 

scream,

a memory of a bad dream.

But an arm hugs me. Holds me warm.

Tells me it's going to be okay.

 

And I feel.

I feel.

 

Alive.

 

Something surges

inside of me. A tide of

 

Hope.

 

And I fall to my knees,

smile beaming.

 

Please.

 

Let me in.

Let me in...

I wish to be human.