I feel them watching me
they reach out to grab
as I turn from the vision
without a sound
they follow me home
they follow me down
to the recess of my mind
I show them how
I reach out to touch
my hand closes on thin air
I see them fade
they disappear
laugh at me from the dark
they taunt and persuade
tell me to join the dark
and follow their parade
I shy away from their play
but the haunting music remains
and I see the horror
born on stage

I am melancholy girl
Staring in the mirror
Don't recognise myself
I am what you made of me

I am oyster boy
Staring at the sea
Still a grain of sand
You are yet to define me

I know I'll fail because I wrote songs
at least I know it was all worthwhile
even if it's a few empty words
-a spoken verse
there'll be something of me when I'm gone
and perhaps you would think more of me
Perhaps, you would read me when you're alone.

how many years has it been
since you heard a voice
not harsh and uncaring
but soft and comforting
how many years
did the walls soak in
like insulation
bitterness and anger
this is the house that hate built
the house where you grew up
four walls
four curse words
not a roof
but an angry sky.

her petticoat falls around her
her fluttering heart a frightened bird
the crowd of empty hearts
didn't love her well enough till now
no one offers her sympathy
as she plays with the crowd
watching her undress
feeling too much like a girl
she's much too young
but they're hungry and she's lunch
so easily corrupted and persuaded
not place left untouched
she loves daddies friends
not objectifiable enough
but an object enough to sin
a ragdoll for the masses
my silly Sally ragdoll lets them in.

you ground me
keep me heavy
my beloved lead balloon
my gravitational pull
a silvery moon with black eyeliner
and a penchant to croon
you are the reason to my ever changing tide
you keep me from the wild
the reign to my free charge
you keep my free spirit level
funereal beauty I long to trap
you are the perfect boy
and you belong in a perfect world
I would trade my life
for another second of you.

there's a world of literature in my head
but when you speak your words are empty
you burn books in front of my waking eyes
and your eyes, they're always dead
it gets to me that you can't empathise
I wonder how you stay awake
with the world passing right before you
and you simply fail to relate
you refuse to let anyone in
there's an air of mystery
over why people love you
they shower you in kisses
while you care naught for them
you are so unpoetic
so very unrefined
you are clumsy with your words
I wonder why we're friends
you are ever so brash
untoward and rightly thin
for love just slips past you
like a cold Northernly wind.