Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Mental scars

So many scars
so many bruises
running up my arm.
But the worst scars
Are the ones that won't heal,
The ones that stain my bloodstream
With hatred,
and sorrow.

It's the words that cause these scars
They enter your mind like a nail in wood
And they stay there forever
Even through happiness.
They bear with you like the friends you wished you had
Ringing like a bell
With you always

Those words they burn
Like a furnace
Sizzling your heart
you can't get away
You're stuck now.

you scream
I scream
But now everyone thinks you're crazy

No-one will help you at school
No-one will help you at home
In fact,
No-one will ever help you at all...

Sunday, 20 November 2016

red roses

Blood stained flowers.
Blood stained buildings.
Suffocating our will to live.
The street is covered in the desperate souls of those who once lived, but now can not care, can not love. People trapped, desperate to leave to a better place, to leave the sadness that is making them stay. Those that still live don't want to anymore, as every time they close their eyes, every time they sleep, they relive the times they've been trying to forget. Feel the sweat and blood dripping down their scarred faces. We wanted the dream but we lived the nightmare. Wanted the sun but got the hail. Now our lives have started to prevail. Every time we turn our head.
All we see are the reddest roses.

Tuesday, 8 November 2016

I love it when you lie

Sugar coat it.
Don't tell me the truth.
Pretend it never happened.
Lie to me.
That's what I love.
Whisper those sinful words.
And watch a smile curl my mouth
I know what happened
I just don't care.
So don't you bother explaining.
I never liked those people anyway.
Now it's only me and you in this world.
So don't you do anything
You can't hurt me now
Though you may not like it.
You've already lied to me before
So throw me in a ball of cotton.
And protect me from those sins,
Frost it over so it seems so much better.
Protect me from those sins.

Monday, 7 November 2016

Protest pt 2

March 15th 2023
She hates Australia and everyone knows it, I wonder what she’ll do for homework. As soon as the sheet gets handed out her face morphs into a lopsided frown. She tries not to show designation towards the paper but you can tell she throws up silently. Her face looks twisted as she scans the brief again, her expression more nauseous. She’s so  focused on her sheet of paper she doesn’t notice 30 different stare’s stabbing into her head, watching her response. Maybe she’ll start a protest, maybe she’ll share it to the world.

August 23rd 2023
We have to do something, we can’t sit back and wait. We’ve already lost 9 insufferable burning years to lazy, slack humans. I clench my fists and wipe away the sweat dripping down my forehead. I try not to show the people how much I’m shaking inside so I stand tall and proud and remember that no matter what happens, what i’m doing is right. I inhale deeply and tell myself to speak clearly, to not let the words tumble. I re-read my words, panicking slightly as I glance at the thousands of people waiting patiently, anticipating what my plan is and what I will do. Worrying thoughts run through my mind, making me cry inside.
What if  I’m too young?
What if they won’t trust me because I’m 9?
What if nothing changes and by the time they realise something’s wrong it will be too late, we’ll have to take off in a spaceship that’s not ready, or even made?
I grasp my papers tightly in my hands that tremble and wipe the dust of the sahara off my clothes. They open the curtains and I stroll through, my chest held high even though I feel stupid.
Remember Pippy, this is something you love, I remind myself.
I take a deep breath and shuffle my papers nervously in my hands.
My voice shakes each word I breath.

“My name is Pippy,” I quiver anxiously. “Remember the water-hole?...”


February 12th 2014
1 kangaroo lay by the water-hole. She sipped the water deeply and hopped away.
2 little koalas played by the water-hole. Little droplets of water catching the sunlight before getting splashed onto fur.
3 emus fought by the water-hole. They cackled and pecked over who was finest like an inharmonic cacophony. After hours of battle they stopped and slugged the water greedily, draining the creek like a plug. The water-hole was getting smaller.
4 tasmanian devils slept by the water-hole. The tide caught up and they floated away, turning on their belly’s they gargled the water until the water-hole was a water-hole no more.
The stream is gone, the animals thirsty. 2 years without water can kill life itself. Time to migrate, time to leave. 300,000 years until we leave this dry, disheveled land.
300,000 years.

February 12th 2023
9 years have passed since the water dried up. Alice springs has been parched ever since. It’s still all over the newspapers and still makes front page.
The water's gone.
It perpetually reads.
The water's gone…

Even if we tried there’s nothing we can do now. The world’s blistering away piece by piece, even the plastic has started to melt. We in the science lab have done everything we can to try and prevent it. Prevent global warming. We’ve spent all these 9 years working on a spaceship that will carry us far. Now all we have are charred blueprints. Though I try I can’t do anything but someone might be able to. Even a 9 year old girl...

19 july

I try to hide, cower away from the world that slaughters innocent people for fun, that wipes out our kind so that they can rule in 'peace'. You stole our land and now we are nothing more than the whipped slaves, tortured and dispirited from the piercing words constantly thrown from someones mouth.  Just because our skin is another color doesn't mean you have the right to slash our fragile flesh. We are humans too, but we are not proud to be called that. Even though it seems perfectly fine it's the most offensive word to call us, for humans are the most offensive thing alive. Our leader speaks his words low and wisely;
"A gun to the throat,
A knife to the flesh,
Our skin is black,
their skin is white,
because of that we have to fight,
17 daggers have scythed our skin,
17 rifles shot."

Sunday, 6 November 2016

Movies don't remember

It had been abandoned for years.
Alone, Forgotten.
Left to decay.
The ripped chairs spilled foam onto the greasy floor no-one had laid their foot on for years. The withering ceiling hung an old camera, which no tape had spun in for decades.
It was once the highlight of town. The place everyone would spend their evenings - and money - to watch the same, sad, movie. It used to overflow with waves off bickering crowds, each person pushing and shoving their way through the queue which used to stretch outside the old, oak doors.
But that was a long time ago. Not a soul has whispered their words here since then.
Not a single soul.
Anyone who even dared peek their head through the not-so-welcoming doors, would immediately change their mind once they saw the crumbling walls and depressing posters. Nowadays the doors stayed locked, the old theatre hiding many secrets within in wheezy chest.
It has been abandoned for years.
Alone, forgotten.
Left to decay.
Just like me….