WordsWithoutAFace

Poetry feels like I'm controlling my life, examining my problems, allowing myself a little freedom.

Out. — June 4, 2016

Out.

I sit here and watch my replacement.
Tears in my eyes,
Reflecting the memories in my mind,
As they drift towards,
Rather than away.

My eyes shut fast,
Where is it? I look and I look,
Searching in the archives of my mind
Searching for my life,
The happy life before this kind.

I grab the files I find,
The ones of the lies and deceit,
The ones of the fake love,
The ones of the horrid nights
And the ones of your eyes.

I tear them up one by one,
Until eventually I just chuck it all,
I chuck it all into the shredder,
And when it’s done
I throw it out onto the dust.

Dust. That’s what they deserve to be.
Immitations of life, love and truth.
As dust flies it acts alive but eventually,
Eventually it hits the ground,
And becomes what it originally was.

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One Day — May 31, 2016

One Day

One day to go.
One day until
It is finally over,
And my life continues.

Last October hit me,
Like an asteroid.
The time has come,
The exams are approaching.

At that point everything
Began to fade.
My excitement was only
For the Summer to come.

Then December approached,
Less cautiously than it should have
For it was when my happiness
Flew away too.

January is usually my
Favourite month,
But all it brought was
Many disappointments to come.

February introduced me
To my Mock Exams.
Trying to replicate the ones
That will determine my future.

March was when I had to say
Goodbye. 
Goodbye to the past twelve years
And hello to the next fifty.

April brought me to the long awaited
Exam Hall.
It stared at me judging,
Knowing what will come of me now.

But now it’s the end of May.
And tomorrow is the beginning…
Of something new,
Something scary and exciting.

For June is a day away,
And I am completely prepared,
With all its happiness and disappointments,
Bring it on is what I say.

Four Walls — May 18, 2016

Four Walls

Four walls are able to hold

So much.

They build a mold,

To who we become.
Four walls, twelve years.

Sixty children,

Making them theirs.

And tearing it all apart.
They hold the memories.

They hold the education.

They hold the betrayal.

They hold the damnation.
Girls are vicious.

The judgement runs in their veins,

As if no one can fit

The idea they have.
Five years of friendship,

Stolen by Lies.

Stolen by Deceit.

Stolen by the cries.
The cry of Deceit,

It’s a hopeless teenage girl.

Angry about her helplessness,

Attacking all those who give up.
The cry of Deceit,

It’s an angry, guilty boy.

No one knows why, except her,

So he attacks and stabs.
Daggers in the form of words.

Words twisted and manipulated,

Formaed into the sculpture 

Of Loneliness.
Loneliness is the loneliest creation.

It’s the weapom used mostly.

No one wNts it,

Everyone runs away from it.
But Deceit never forgets.

She never forgets to flaunt,

Flaunt what she took

Because its all its good for.
Four walls are able to hold 

So much

They build a mold,

To who we become.

How Master Pieces Are Made. — May 9, 2016

How Master Pieces Are Made.

Some of the best sculptors,

Aren’t called so.

Words are their best material

And their master pieces glow.
They glow with the hatred

Embedded into their framework.

They glow with the bitterness

Enclosed in their cloak.
The cloak that shields

The real colours in their eyes.

They make themselves shine

Through the hatred and cries.
Dislike and hate don’t like to be alone,

So they pick up their words to speak.

Speaking and a new sculpture grows,

Strong enough it would never break.
But oil always thrives above water,

And so the day will come,

When sculptures are dropped,

And the lies overcome.

Magic. — May 3, 2016

Magic.

People are always looking

For the magic in this world.
Yet, they never seem

To see it.
Magic is the way

Red and blue

Can form purple.
Magic is the way

You look at me,

And wonder who I am.
Magic is the way 

We can never look alike,

And yet we are all beautiful.
Magic is the way

All we are is a single species,

Surrounded by so many others.
Magic is the way 

We will never truly understand,

The universe around us.
Magic is the way

I love my brothers,

Even though I don’t know much about them.
Magic is the way

They love me,

For who I am, for what I am.
Magic is the way

Real friends never leave,

And never jugde, no matter what you’ve done.
Magic is the way

I don’t have a sister,

But I have my cousin, it’s the same thing.
Magic is the way

My parents are still together,

After over twenty years.
Magic is the way

Red and blue

Can form purple.

I Remember… I Remember It All… — April 29, 2016

I Remember… I Remember It All…

I remember it well,

The way it felt

When your hand first 

Grabbed mine.
It was like an electric current,

Turning our hands into

North and South Poles

Attracted to each other, as if it was forever.
I remember it well,

The way it felt

When you pulled me back

Into a kiss.
My first kiss where

Our faces didn’t line up

And we both broke 

Into laughter.
I remember it well,

The way it felt

When I found you waiting

For me outside my school.
I remember it well

The way it felt 

When you muttered the words

“I love you.”
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt when you decided

To walk out of my life.
You packed your bags,

Left the room I made for you,

In my heart engraved with your name,

But not before you locked the door behind you.
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt

When I read the words you wrote,

The words containing thoughts like razors.
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt

When you turned my own Friend

Against me.
When you, you were the only one,

The only one I trusted…

For so long,

And you broke it worse than I thought you ever could.
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt 

When I found out what you said

About my friend… A person you barely knew.
The boy you spent so long 

Hating for no reason, my friend,

He was the one that believed in me

When you weren’t there.
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt

When my bed

Turned into a sea, drowning me.
But, I remember it better,

The way it felt

When i saw my mother’s heart

Break through her eyes as she saw me cry.

A Long Time Ago… — April 25, 2016

A Long Time Ago…

A long time ago,

Lived an eleven year old girl,

She believed the world was good

And it would treat her like a pearl.
She would wake up every morning,

Always the same blue sky,

Always the same sun,

She hoped that one day she’d fly.
She thought she had 

To make the day her own.

That nothing would go wrong,

Everything was under her control.
Now, lives a sixteen year old girl,

Hoping for the world to show her the good.

She sits holding a green pen,

Writing what it would.
She wakes up every morning,

Exhausted from the storms,

Exhausted from the months,

Hoping her new beginning forms.
She learnt that days come and go,

Never under her own control,

But in a months time, she knows,

She may finally float…