Let Me Be Me

I look different from the inside.

I know what you see,
But you don’t know what I hide,
You think it’s just smiles and glee.

Really I don’t feel safe to confide,
Cause’ I’ve got demons you see.

They cajole, sow doubts, and chide
Making me question what it is to be me.

Showing my faults, destroying my pride
Highlighting how I act differently.

They remind me of when I cried,
And make me think all fuzzy.

They suggest I shouldn’t have tried,
Confusion they guarantee.

I just want to be free, to be, and to be me.
To not worry about what you see, or wanting to flee, or to fit some unspoken decree.
What’s the key? Can thee enlighten me?

Or should I hide inside, bide my time, and chide?
Swallow my pride and wish I’d simply died?
Please confide, be my guide, and give me what I’ve been denied. 

Ah, I see, you lied.
You see me as debris.

You barely even tried,
Before making me feel crappy.

‘Cause you were the one who cried
And spoke with such irony.

Like it was me who beat your backside,
And me who raised you absently,
And me who caused your family to divide,
And me who acted grotesquely,
And me who failed to provide,
And me who never gave an apology.

No, I’ve said sorry.
My actions weren’t justified.

But I am not them and I will never be.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Laughing

I don’t want
to be
where
I am

I could move but
there is
nowhere
I can go

I am trapped
inside
my cursed
mind

It follows
me
everywhere
laughing
at my
pain

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Is This?

is this a cry
for attention
or
a cry
for help?
is there really a difference?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Scrying Thoughts

bong hit
smoke eyes
see life
father’s eyes
different pain
new disguise
hot take
fresh lies
core aspects
i despise
diverted focus
stoned highs
scrying thoughts
child cries
look close
perpetual demise
broken dreams
sharp knives
self-worth
clichéd rhymes

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Red Flag Chaser

I’m a red flag chaser
A self-debaser
That tattooed look
Leaves me shook
Dabbling in drugs
With ‘caring’ thugs
Incredible sex
For the brain hex
Insightful conversations
Just distracted ruminations
Same toxic pattern
From abstinent to slattern
A mirror’s shame
Only myself to blame
Left alone and burnt
No lesson learnt
I get off on the thrill
Of you losing your chill
I hate when you insist
With a scream and a fist
But it’s worth the pain
To feel like myself again
A childhood’s toll
Red flags make me whole
The end of another fight
This is love, right?

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

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Mojito the Bandito

Mojito the Bandito,
On the run from the law.
Hired an impersonator,
So in two places, he can be saw.

Committing crimes,
But seen with an alibi.
The adventures he had,
His schemes weren’t shy.

The cartels took notice,
Alas it couldn’t last,
Told Mojito to stop,
Or his head they would blast.

But Mojito wasn’t stupid,
He had a plan to enact,
Told his impersonator to wait,
Then it was Mojito’s time to act.

He shot the man himself,
Displayed his body on the town’s wall.
Made the cartels happy,
And Mojito attended his own funeral.

Now he rides free,
A gun at his side.
Named Mojito no more,
His face he must hide.

Beware the masked bandit,
The criminal with no name,
He will kill you where you stand,
And leave with no shame.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

Imperfect Synonyms

i hate
imperfect synonyms
unless I’m desperate
for a rhyme

language specificity
is imperative
for effective communication
and management of time

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

It's Not Wrong

It’s not wrong to disagree
Just make sure you speak fairly

It’s not wrong to say goodbye
Just make sure you first try

It’s not wrong to say sorry
Just make sure it’s not out of worry

It’s not wrong to up and leave
Just make sure your heart’s on your sleeve

It’s not wrong to be incompatible
Just make sure you stay amiable

It’s not wrong to put yourself first
Just make sure you avoid the worst

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

I Over Thought It

I over thought it and hurt my own feelings.
Ruminated and created some tearlings.
Them’s are tears that represent fears.
Them’s are shame and toxic self-blame.

I internalised it and took it out on you.
Rebelling and yelling that something’s ado.
‘Twas an attack that needs an unpack.
‘Twas an interrogation like presentation.

I blocked the world off and hurt myself.
Bashed and slashed at my body wealth.
That’s a knife leading to strife.
That’s a pile of pills causing ills.

I broke down and lost it all.
Cried and tried to take the last fall.
I was insane and overflowing with pain.
I was at rock bottom feeling forgotten.

I survived and came back to you wearily.
Apologising and explaining myself tearily.
The same story just more gory.
The trauma trick that I always stick.

I recovered and returned to my normal.
Flirting and fucking and acting all formal.
You said it’s okay, it was just a bad day.
You let me back in, despite all my sin.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.

In The Predawn Light

In the predawn light
the birds take flight,
taking with them
the silence of the night.

The lone dog’s bark
heralds the end of dark,
as his fellows
take up the lark.

Then comes humanity.
A din of utter profanity.
Attempting to avoid
silence induced insanity.

Until shines the moon,
bringing its silent boon.
Causing man’s return
to sleep’s blessed lagoon.

Then the nightmares come.
A calamitous thrum,
highlighting the pain
of yesterday’s sum.

The night’s confidence shaken,
peaceful sleep mistaken.
Silence only exists
at night when we awaken.

In the predawn light
the birds take flight,
taking with them
the silence of the night.

---

This poem is from the book, ‘Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly’.

Read more from the colleciton, download a free copy, or purchase as a Paperback, eBook, Hardcover or Audiobook.