Sixteen The silence streams, Winding its way down blind canals, Quenching screams behind closed doors. There’s always a whisper that worms its way through And from that I believe that all the knowledge in my mind has emerged, Caught in hushes Swept among the rushes And places I wasn’t supposed to be My person
One Small Planet One small planet, an azure dot on an astral plane, Surrounded by lights but no one is home. One small planet, out on its own, Looking for a sign that it’s not alone. One small planet at the end of its days, As the right side rises and our rights are
Fake Nation Living in a fake nation. Already being put on medication. Forced to look a certain way, But end up looking dull and grey. You can’t speak about anything with an open-mind, Scared of being ill-defined. Living in a fake nation. That has no negotiation. Try and do something about it, But then being
I Don’t Know What I’m Doing, But Let’s Roll with It With bilateral breathing We bow to the wave To the butterfly stroke We are master slave Slave to the clock And the time that we beat Masters of stroke We swim to compete To meet the finishing line To claim it’s mine.
Of A Broken Home Their words are sharp, Their mouths are loud, Making comments on my life, But they don’t know the pain, The pain of a broken home. The family that I never got to know, The days spent wondering if they knew The truth about my broken home, And the pain that
1 in 52 No same way of seeing the same thing But when you say something They put you down But they can’t see that they’re the clowns They don’t wear a crown They’re the same They’re just causing pain Finding someone plain who’s not tainted Or finding some who’s nicely painted It’s hard Finding
Hall of Mirrors In this hall of mirrors, I am a circus freak, A fat man trapped in a cage, A freak with wonky teeth. In this hall of mirrors, I am the King on a crooked throne of awkwardness, I am loneliness An outcast in this hall of mirrors, I am a broken reflection
That’s Life There are people who wake up everyday, Fearing for what people talk and say. Thinking, ‘they’re not good enough’ for anyone, Thinking ‘maybe death would be more fun’. Its not their fault they don’t fit in ‘properly’, The people there just act improperly. Why must they make it hell, when they’re stuck in
We are numb We are numb to reality. We all get told, we get told that we can do anything, We get told we are the best of the best and that we can’t go wrong, We grow up believing that the world is on our side, its not, Mammy can’t get you a
Shame All around, nothing but corruption, Our own untimely destruction. What really have we come to, to point fingers, So much blame yet only shame lingers. A viscous guilt grows inside us For what we are, for what people once called us. We stare at ourselves, we seethe at what we see, Don’t you understand?