This Place // Poetry Series Part 5

This house is not a home

Built with faded walls and

Crumbling ceilings

of words never meant.

This room is not a living room

The walls are too cold

and the living never enter,

Only lies, only death.

A green door,

Scratched paint, a faded number

Never judge a book,

Never judge a home

By its cover.

What you see is not

What is there.

A family home, reduced to

Hostile silence and

Angry thoughts.

It can never be the same,

It will never be the same.

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Justified Injustice // Poetry Series Part 4

A Series of Haiku On Living

Where is the beauty

In believing we should die?

This is not beauty.

Where is the beauty

In wanting to stay in bed

For days, weeks on end?

It’s not beautiful.

Not brave, romantic, or cute

To wish away life.

There should be light in

Everything around us.

Not dark, emptiness.

Where flowers can grow,

There will always be a light.

There is light in you.

See this light, and you

Too, can live the way you wish.

No one can stop you.

You may feel as though,

This life is weighed on your hands.

That you cannot breathe.

You must know. Know this;

There is nothing in your way.

Do not stop yourself

From living, loving.

From experiencing life.

From knowing yourself.

See the light around

You, and feel the warmth it gives.

You are not alone.

Justified Injustice // Poetry Series Part 3

Ode To Leelah

She. She. She

Was so beautiful.

Trapped, a soldier, a martyr.

She was strong. She was brave.

She. She. She

Was encaged, locked into this world

Misunderstood and forgotten.

Suffered in silence.

Brushed aside.

She is not he.

Lost in a world,

Where instinct

And inside mean nothing.

She fought too long, too hard

Undeserved pain, unrecognised.

She. She. She

Hurt by those

Supposed to love unconditionally,

She is not a beautiful story,

But she was beautiful.

She is not a tragic hero,

But a tragedy nonetheless.

She. She.

She.

Justified Injustice // Poetry Series

I Come From

I come from an easy life,

Lack of hardship,

Lack of labour,

Food waiting on the table,

Teachers waiting in the classroom.

I come from not having to fight,

For my freedom, for my rights.

But I come from “boys will be boys”

And “don’t go out alone”

I come from keys poised between fingers.

I come from fear.

I come from believing

I must be perfect, complacent

Never outspoken, never bossy,

“You run like a girl!”

And “don’t be a p*ssy!”

I come from a world

Where my gender dictates

What I can do,

And more importantly what I cannot.

Be the princess

You cannot save yourself.

That’s for the prince.

Unfunny jokes,

Where I belong in the kitchen

And “you can’t wear that”

Why should I not do

What my brothers can?

Why must I always be the lady

To forget how to look after myself?

I come from anger.

I come from overprotection.

I come from a man’s world.

I come from fear, fear, fear.