Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

The words they say, I have nothing left to say.  No thank yous, I'm well,  How are you?  So kind, all of you.  I'm not going to pretend,  To be blissful and divine.  No photographs on land,  Not this time.  I'm dissolving  In self loathing and regret,  Burning skin in formaldehyde.  This lake of hell,  Seeming so icy, so forlorn.  Underneath the needles,  They puncture everything.  Don't come close or you'll slip Far down into this mystery,  That not even hunters can spot,  Nor sailors far away at sea.  Underneath the lake,  Is a whirlpool of hate,  Of sin, of calling out names,  To the ones who have died,  To the ones never lived,  The deaf who stay in towers,  Where black ash faced maidens sing.  The fearful and the hated, They left before winter came.  The fish shrunk in misery,  Before they could be saved.  But me, I am not scared, I will write names in silence,  For the ones who are scared.  Just so that they feel ecstatic They feel overwhelmed and proud.  I am

Breathe this air,  Sweet concoction Of pine and sun.  In this forest Fires burn Dark riding  Waves in the light of the moon The waters flow And my feet grow,  Traversing miles Of old dirt roads I see the green Moss over stone,  Clouds coming down,  From a place in the mind.  I stop running,  Here I know no fear,  Of love or pain.  Humming birds Sing silently Prayers like wind chimes Rise up to my head The cloud floats Inside me now,  Engulfs me gently,  Without a sound.  Life or death,  It doesn't matter anymore.  If living is for the brave, Then dying must be too. Somewhere in this forest,  There is a magic tree,  I find it at last, And it sets me free.  Once I am free,  I want no escape.  I close my eyes,  I open my eyes.  I'm home, I'm here,  I'm already free.  There's no other place To go, no place I'd rather be.  Breathe this air,  Breathe it out again.  I'm the cloud now,  Rising above the forest floor. 

  Dig deeper, Nail treasure chest,  Hope, faith, serendipity,  Wipe away blood,  On stormy sea floors,  Turn over the books,  Tear them apart.  This is not a game.  Fear of losing, Is your weakness.  Throw out the rule book.  Scrounge the last drawer,  On your knees,  Because prayers Cannot be heard,  When you shout.  Hear that voice?  Small, silent, ignorant Of knowing  The taste of victory?  Catch that voice, Before it retreats,  Truth barrels Resounding,  But you cannot hear.  A gentle humming,  Like birds in black Forests huddled tired,  To take flight.  You hide from who?  Your own face Or is it mine?  I don't need to see Or hear you.  I'm on the floor,  Scratching nails Underground,  Holding on tightly To the love You can't find.  This is not a game, This is not a grave.  In the remains Of what could not stay,  I hold your bones,  I quietly pray.  Sometimes,  You are beneath  The soil,  Dragging me down.  I let go,  I do not wish to drown.  Look again,  The bottom mos

There is a flower,  Where once,  My heart used to weep.  It is a bright sunflower,  Looking up to smile.  For years,  I thought it Would not bloom,  Amidst incessant Torrents splashed,  Barraged by ice Harsh buckets of snow.  Every time,  A bud sprouted, Running feet Trampled it Before it could grow.  But my heart Was not just resilient,  It was observant too.  It realised over time,  That it needed to wait,  For the sun to arrive again.  Huddled in the dark,  It imagined the warmth,  That spring would bring.  Golden rays magnified By cloud colour lens,  Scattered across fields,  In hot, summer days.  When the dreams  Were nothing But deafening nightmares,  It heard a voice,  Asking it to believe,  You are pretty,  You are brave,  If only you could see,  What others see,  When they see you,  You would know,  How happy you could be.  Winter perished,  Just like all dark things do.  I found my heart,  Reaching out Every morning,  To stretch outside  A little more each day.  There is a fl