30 11 2009

The lights of Covent Garden surround me as I lose myself in the crowds; a solitary figure weaving in and out of the crowds; eyes black as coal and hair falling down my back. In the city of my life its easy to once again become the forgotten girl.

I stop and listen as a man on a crate; scraggly haired and unshaven tells me that God’s fire burns bright but as I continue on my way back into the crowds I know its not true. Nothing is real in this life.

The lights of Christmas time are shining bright; glistening in front of me like unshed tears and I know its finally time to say goodbye.

The train leaves Charing Cross and I’m on it; my head full of shame hung low. Mumford and Sons are playing in my ear … telling me the liar not to cry. The tears are whispering down my face, there for the crowds to see, unabashed and unashamed I let them fall without wiping them away.

It’s morning and I am driving to work; I don’t even watch the road as I plan the music I want them to play the day I finally feel the peace I have wanted my whole life.

I’m at work my pushy nature coming through; no-one listens to what I have to say, no-one cares I wonder if anyone has ever stopped and noticed that for someone who talks so much I say so little. My anger always on the edge of reason; waiting to explode. The words that fall from my mouth are always so ugly; so meaningless. In a world of light I am nothing but darkness; in a world of fools I am the foolish of them all.

I see in the mirror someone so lost, I feel so misunderstood but I wonder now if it has always been simply me who has misunderstood myself. I carry nothing good. There is no possibility; even when I look my best the ugliness inside shines through.

I put on my make –up, I wear the dress, like a lady of the night I smile in the right places and nod my head. I take the drink; I eat the food, I laugh where I am supposed too. There is no feeling; no escape from the weariness inside.

I’m so tired; tired of myself, tired of constantly battling the woman in the mirror; tired of trying to see a future where I know there is none. Tired of wanting to be someone different, someone new, someone liked.

I’m so tired of it all.


And sometimes…

17 11 2009

the words just don’t come at all.