Quirks

I watch people
with their little quirks
and realise
that´s what I love
about them
how nice to be
comfortable
with who you are.

Travel

So I sit and think about
all that has passed
and wonder
does life get any better?
laughter shared
new friends
breath-taking scenery
what does it all mean to me?
so I wonder how long
will it be
before I see
the place I´m meant to be
and what it means to me?

Inside

Like teardrops falling down my cheeks
the rain rolls down the window
and reminds me
how sad I am about you
why do I do what I do
I should just keep it all inside
then maybe it would be alright.

Writing

And as I write
the tension eases
and more knots are created
in other parts of me
maybe one day
it´ll all massage away
hopefully not
writing is a big part of me
who knows
if I do it successfully.

Swaying

So I take a deep breath
and think about
how far I´ve come
how dumb
to pour out my heart
when I knew
what you´d do
but I had to try
because sometimes
life´s too short
not to say
what you feel
and who knows
I feel a change in me
I´m moving on again
swaying like a palm tree
back and forth
from who I am
and who I want to be
finding me
and how I need to be
to be with someone
and happy
completely
with me.

Notebooks

How many notebooks
do you think I would fill?
if
my heart was broken again?
a member of my family died?
a tragedy occurred?
my mind
wants to explode
but it´s usually
the bad stuff
and that´s depressing
my message to the world
will be
all the bad things
that have happened to me.

What´s your type?

I grew up in a predominantly white area
but multi-culture surrounded me
I have never taken a white boy home
and my parents have never judged me
all they´ve ever done is welcome them
my love is their love
they just want to see me happy
whatever that person may be
but I guess you wouldn´t understand
if skin colour is all you see
a shame really
to block out a beautiful portion of the world
show animosity
purely on what you see.

Wounded

I struggle with it everyday
what I want to be
and what I am
but I´m doing the best that I can
trying to be
me
and I´m getting there
slowly
everybody seems to think
it´s all sorted
but it´s not
and even though I know
how to move forward
I don´t
afraid
that I might end up
ten steps back
wounded again.

hungover

I like ungover mornings
when I´m still a little drunk
I write much better poetry

solitude

I have my life
I have my things
I have my thoughts
but it´s all me
won´t somebody
join me
in this solitude

music

listening to the songs my dad passed on to me
thinking about all I could be