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  • poised 165w

    Embrace Oneself

    Walk tall
    And proud
    Work that crowd
    Smile to the earth
    You know your worth

    That 'Staying Alive' swagger
    You're nobodys fool
    Gone are those fears
    You're cooler than cool

    You rock your surroundings
    Like the rainbows rock the sky.


  • poised 165w

    Butchered Passion

    Music is my passion
    Always has been
    Tried a bit of formal training
    Failed 'cause l went nuts.

    You see my passion was denied to me as a child.
    Barred from joining the choir,
    Barred from going to the music school
    Barred from all expression.
    Battered for having a sing.

    So for decades l stayed pretty quiet,
    I dipped my toe in the year before last...loved it.
    Dipped my toe in big time last year...had a ball.

    Well had a ball except for those moments of torture when the memories would flood me.

    Formal training was a delight,
    But my brain kept exploding.
    Managed to suppress to the outside,
    Once home it was flash-back central.

    I became iller and iller.
    I left.

    Music is my passion...but it also kills me.

  • poised 165w

    That killing feeling

    Homicidal and suicidal share a coin.
    Tangeable and overwhelming, they are both,
    But the former is scary when the latter is not.

    It's like living with doom,
    One becomes the grim reaper,
    Tunnel vision,
    Tunnel thoughts,
    Even breathing narrows down to a basic in-out.

    To be suicidal is to rid onself from this earth,
    To be homicidal is a painful, tortuous riddle not wanted or desired in any form.
    One struggles to know how to be rid of such thinking.
    One trys with mighty effort to be rid of this feeling.

    I shall workout until l can workout no more.

    I am exhausted.

    I succeed.


  • poised 165w


    People turn to friends and family
    I turn to the Gods

    My sporting gods aid me in where to go from here.
    "Get the fuck out of bed for starters missy!", they'd say then "Get moving and start living again".
    They're so right.
    Being in bed gets me no where.
    Exercise gets me going and up for living .

    My criminal gods give space for my homicidal feelings.
    Rumble and ruminate.
    Eventually processing towards a calm state.

    My fictional gods let me be,
    Allowing all the pain and hurt l hold inside.
    They understand and feel for me.
    They say "yes lizzy we understand and we are so sorry for what happened to you. Come to us when you need that validation, we'll always be there to give it to you".

    Thank you Gods.
    Thank you so much.
    You keep me alive
    That maybe one day l'll make it.

  • poised 166w


    Blow to the self
    Crushing self-doubt creeps all over me,
    Self-esteem knackered,
    So sick of my fragility.

    I will rise.
    That's all there is to it.
    I will rise again.
    Then get on with it.

    God dam it, l'm a gorgeous wonderous warrior!
    From now on my response to a knock back will be to get up and rise.

    Rise Up Beautiful Girl ☺☯️

  • poised 175w

    That Terror

    Being hated leaves a scar
    It runs to my core
    To the inside of my bones, my soul
    Everything that is me and more

    The hatred by a mother
    Because of my colour
    Has led to a life l no longer want to suffer

    Her disgust
    Her gloating
    Her guiltyfying shaming
    Like a knife she forever twisted
    Ripping my right to be apart

    The swollen face
    Punched to a silence
    Was a walk in the park

    Knees rubbed raw
    Head pulped soo sore
    Was a walk in the park

    The deeds of my Dad could never match her weaponry
    Yes, the blood got too much at times
    But l knew he loved me.
    He loved me.

    No child should live with the knowledge that their mother wants them dead.

    No adult that was once that child should forever continue to struggle to overcome.

    Set me free mind
    Set me free *sigh*.


  • poised 175w


    "What do you need to feel real again?"


    That's all l need

    I'd sit down in the middle of traffic and just scream,

    "love, love, love"

    If l knew just one person would turn and offer me their hand.


    There aint no life without it.


  • poised 175w


    Bleak is my ever present friend and shadow
    We walk this earth together
    Aimless, thoughtless
    With nothingness and emptyness

    Bleak and I watched MOTD
    A smile cracked here and there
    Yet no thought came with it
    In a coma without being in a coma...
    A conscious coma maybe...

    Empty, so empty


  • poised 175w


    Straining at the edge of life
    Realising there's an end in sight
    My brain has packed its bags
    And now waiting for its flight

    Like the tumble weed on the old western sets
    There's just nothing there anymore
    From the bridge of my nose to the back of my head
    From ear to ear
    There is nothing

    Just an empty space that once held a person.


  • poised 179w


    Hunter, they who seek out the drama of pain

    Hunting's their game, not journalism by another name

    The glee in their eyes as another celeb dies

    "Did you get a picture?"
    "Were any drugs found?"
    "Did you see his wrists?"
    "Dam no, were they bound?"

    Like rotting vultures
    Corrupted beings
    Barely human in my eyes
    As they feast on the embers that once was a life.

    Hunters that's all
    Nothing more
    Nothing less
    I'd legislate if l could
    To stop the intrusion
    The invasion by stealth
    Into the sorrow of another
    Of much or little wealth

    R.E.S.P.E.C.T long forgotten
    Standards askew
    Were these folk ever decent
    With their intent
    Or was it always a free for all
    For all those hell bent