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A seed yet to sprout,
Nothing but to wait,
Yet do not despair,
For one day you will break out,
Just be patient, you’re not late,
Very soon you will be there,
Time to buckle down,
Prepare yourself now,
For the time has come,
Embrace the sun, do not frown,
The warm rays on ev’ry bough,
Seeds, where all greatness is from.


Some days the shadows surge and swirl,

They rush forward in eager anticipation,

Hoping that I cut off,

Another piece,

And fling it,

To their ravenous maw but,

That is not me anymore,

And I refuse to feed them any longer,

I no longer bleed for others,

Your barbed words,

Your veiled strikes,

They find no purchase on my form,

I walk in the light with head high,

These tears I cry are not in pain,

They mourn your lack,

Of understanding.


This constant battering,

These ever present storms,

They fly against us, darkness spreads,

So cold, teeth chattering,

Make us writhe like worms,

So much pressure inside our heads,

The world is washed away,

In so many flurries and snows,

One after another, just constant dark,

Barely time to shout or say,

'Stop!' in the face of this flurry of blows,

These days have certainly left their wicked mark.

Coming to Terms

Being the only dead flower in a field of roses,

Constant criticism and a lack of vibrant colour,

But I am not dead yet, I just need care,

No, I will not fade yet, I just need love,

These roots are still strong, they run deep,

I won’t run, will not beg for your favour,

I am still strong, not as dead as I look,

My vision gazes at the world above,

I see beautiful waterfalls, enormous forests above,

And it begs the question what is beauty, am I not it,

Can I not be as beautiful as them,

What do I need to do to feel right,

Dispell this stress and erase its compound,

I envy these roses that surround me,

Graced with beauty, flaunted without a whim,

Lacking this grace haunts me still, imperfect.

I am not perfect

The past two winters, I have come home,

Arrived to silence and your blame game,

You hate me for the words I have said,

Yet I still mean every single phrase,

Your selfish gobbling all the time,

You leech, you drain, you suck out all life,

I have watched all plead with you to stop,

But you no longer see people, no,

You see money and gifts, not their faces,

You fractured out family, pushed them out,

I cannot forgive you, never will,

Maybe I deserve your blame and scorn,

I sharpened my words and threw them out,

I cut you down as trees to a saw,

I will not ask for your forgiveness,

Nor can I gift to you forgiveness,

For you tore and clawed at our family,

You ripped through them, sniffing for money,

Surprise, you have not found anything,

Except this destruction and sorrow,

I have managed to piece together,

A family without you inside it,

And I kind of like the way it shines.


Sticking with real fam’ly,

It just feels like the right thing,

You’ll find no argument here,

But it sure is tough lately,

What will the near future bring,

Raucous applause or a jeer,

When the patriarch utters,

'No, you are not one of ours,'

Thinking you would not hear him,

Do I descend to gutters,

Worrying for countless hours,

No, the future grows quite dim.


In the morning light, a bird sings,

A glorious tune of wondrous sound,

The sun rises, warmth and light it brings,

Perched in a cage, grace beyond kings,

The most beautiful song around,

In the morning light, a bird sings,

The bird sings despite clipped wings,

Will not ever leave the ground,

The sun rises, warmth and light it brings,

Wakes as the morning bell rings,

Hoping to wake up unbound,

In the morning light, a bird sings,

To such desperate hope, it clings,

Against the cage, it surely pounds,

The sun rises, warmth and light it brings,

Caged to sing, a puppet on strings,

Yet its beauty will astound,

In the morning light, a bird sings,

The sun rises, warmth and light it brings,

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