Time

“Five minutes.”
He didn’t look so big. Or scary
Is this is? Looking down at someone so weak knowing in a second you could destruct them.
How did it feel? Threatening to smother a child if she wasn’t asleep; promising to strangle her if dinner wasn’t finished.
“Sorry. I…”
Silence. Like the one that would occur after a row almost every night. When it was safe enough to free your ear drums from underneath the duvet.
“I know I’ve been absent for years but my time is running out and I-”
“It’s run out. Five minutes. Gone. Goodbye Dad.”

Chance

Chance

You’ve hurt me. You’ve been an idiot.

You don’t deserve me. I took the torture.

Not anymore.

You made me suffer. Now you will.

I can kill you. Right here. Right now. You deserve it.

It takes a slip of a finger. You’re life, in my hands

I won’t take your shit. I won’t be your punch bag.

My life is no longer going to be miserable.

Shame, I can’t say the same about you.

Behind those ropes, you will honour me.

I could kill you. But you will suffer slower. Longer.

A chance I hear you plead. Never.

Time

I sit here, waiting for you to come. Endless days pass - I've lost count.
But you never come.
You promised, swore against your life, said you'd never forget me. You broke that promise, didn't you? You've forgotten me, all memories containing me erased from your mind.
Yet still I wait. I stand, sit, pace this cold jail cell, twisting my fingers, gazing at the clock. The hands move, but not in unison with time. The clock sprints ahead, whilst the day drags behind.
I'm going crazy.
But I still wait for you, praying you'll come, knowing you won't.

Wings

Wings give you a sense of freedom. Flying in the air with no borders to stop where you are going. No one to tell you what to do, boss you around. You are your own boss. You are your own captain flying a plane that is your body. Steering and controling it.
Wings give you the power to go wherever you want whenever you want. Flying high up in the sky, as free as a bird. Reaching for the skies to escape all the misery that life holds for you, just for a second. To get a taste of freedom.

Night

Night

Evening danced the last smears of sunlight away into morning. And the stars were no longer shied behind the sky’s ebony finish. I, however, was veiled in darkness, my habit and the firm embrace of guilt. The fruit of my sins had fallen asleep to Mother Nature’s howling symphony. Frost dust cracked open the bare flesh on my lips, until each “I love you” became an effort defeated.

A swallow wasn’t enough to rid my mouth of its sour aftertaste. Water’s fingertips carried the basket away.

My baby was born to a woman not born to be a mother.

Fire

It was a warm, moonless night in tribal Africa. We were sitting around the fire singing. To my friends it was a time of immense enjoyment, but for me it was a moment filled with sadness and regret. I could see him glaring at me through the fire. 'You could have saved me' he said. What could I have done? I was just as ignorant as he was. 'You heard the gowl. You could have stopped me!'
All of a sudden it began to rain. It was just like that dreadful night, when I lost him, my best friend.

Rain

How heavily it rained that night. Sombre grey clouds filled the blue sky, giving out raindrops as big as pebbles, washing the windows of the buildings. That night my mother died. I did not know the difference between reality and a dream. I ran away from the truth and the mournful atmosphere at home. I felt a gentle tap on my left shoulder, then on my right then on my head. The rain has started spitting. As I walked faster to find some shelter, the driving drops advanced their gears, camouflaging my tears. Rain please wash my pain away.

Night

Night does not choose to blind you, it does not force you to listen, yet you do. You shouldn't. You live surrounded by night through night and day. You embrace your sorry life tempting night when night should be tempting you, you twist it until night is not night but night is something you have manufactured for your own progression. You shouldn't. You had been warned about your misuse yet you refused to lift the blackened blindfold to let day embody you, you refused to remove the metaphorical microphones positioned in your ears. You should have listened. You wouldn't.

Glass

Missing pieces of the window can be found etched into her face. She stares at herself in her mirror; eighteen deep reminders of him returning the search for her reflection.

It’s not her face, the mirror’s just dirty.

They were perfect, Vogue worthy. Pictures line her room, enveloping her in pathetic attempts to conceal her now almost-perfect face. Almost-perfect, but not quite. He grins at her with a different girl on his shoulder; innocent, unscathed. She picks him up, always blushing in eighteen different places and throws him into the fire, burning black crevices into his still beautiful features.

Fire

Fire. My body's burning, the heat surrounds my room. Only I survive.

Don't worry I keep saying to myself, but what hope was there? I was going to die. Fire.

Dangerous fire. Why try to survive? Why not just let go? Because I need to. No matter the fire.

But will I survive, what will become of me? No-one has these answers when it matters most. Fire. It can destroy anything! Fire. I can't defeat it, it can defeat me. Fire. Why? Why give death? Fire destroys.

Fire is burning. Now it's my turn. To live. I destroy fire.