Tired

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.

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And sometimes…

17 11 2009

the words just don’t come at all.