Free Verse: Chaos

I feel like
Everything is happening
All at once.

I can’t tell
If the chaos
Is abnormal,
Or if it is just life?

Trying to find
“The new normal.”
Was there ever
A ‘normal’ to begin with?

Unanswered questions
Far surpass, those to which
I can answer with any certainty.

I seek clarity,
Yet am surrounded
By chaos.

It fills me physically
Shutting me down
Until I am nothing
More than Raw Emotion

Overpowering and unprocessed,
Like a pit of snakes
Each one filled with venom.

Fear, Rage, Lust,
Ego, Shame, Guilt,

Each one venomous,
Paralysing not killing.

Drawing out an existence,
Into a slow and terrible
Spiral to downfall.

Is it hubris
Which fells a man,
Or obstinance?

At least a man
Who falls to hubris
Can say he is proud,
I cannot. I do not feel
Proud of myself.
I feel like I’ve walked away
From every good thing
I ever had,
Because I was tired.
Now I find myself
More tired than ever,
with less than ever
I thought I could have,
That which remains
is precious and heavy.

Love, Duty, Honour,
Obligation, Frustration,

Love, Ignorance, Demanding,
Beautiful, Incomparable,

New. Everything is new,
I recognise nothing,
And am further displaced
From paths so far ventured.

Rather than trying to find
My way back to them,
Perhaps I should be
Moving forwards.

I have been given a chance
To whitewash my canvas.
The heavy pattern and colour
From my painting so far
Still there, lurking
Under this new,
Crisp layer.

But even with this fresh start,
I am afraid to mark the canvas
As I know how easy it is to fill
And overwork, so desperate
For the result to be beautiful,
But not trusting myself
As an artist to create.
Working to a standard
Beyond my own ability.

My canvas remains
Unpainted on,
But marked regardless
By outside influence.

I allow myself no control,
Sharing my canvas
Rather than fill it
With my own Masterpiece.

Free Verse: Honourable Intentions

I have very little to say
That I haven’t already
Said before.

I cannot think straight.
Cannot focus
On anything
Besides the darkness.

I am lost. I am lost.

I am looking
For something
I do not know.

I tried to explain
Why I hated my job
And I couldn’t.

You see it’s not the job I hate.
I still have passion.
I just can’t access it.

It’s not the job I hate.
It is my life.

To hate the life
That one has created
For themselves.

Yet no. I didn’t create this life.
I merely followed the path
Which I was set upon.
I’m too far forward to go back.
But I no longer want to reach
The destination
Being signposted
Along the way.

I gain experience.
More and more every day.
But I am no further forwards.

How do you change a life;
That you are honour bound
To continue being a part of?

Is a life lead by honourable intention enough,
Or will obligation mar
The person I am to become,
Until the life I desire
Has slipped away forever.

The life I cannot even consider
While bound to the obligations
I have imposed upon myself
Through a sense of duty
Change me beyond the capacity
To ever be what I want.

Even if I don’t know what that is.

Free Verse: Have You Ever Been Lost?

Have you ever been lost?

I remember a time
With my parents
For the life of me,
I don’t remember when or where.

What I do remember
Is the moment I looked around
And realised
I was alone.

In the middle of a busy crowd
Of course
I wasn’t alone.
Yet the people
Were part of the problem
A busy crowd
Is no place for a lost child.

Too many people
By their journey
From point A
To point B

I panicked,
And the crowd absorbed me,
As fully as my fear.

Neck-snapping from side to side,
I looked to find them,
My parents,
But to my mind
They were gone.

Time passed,
But the dread did not,
It filled me,
Leaking from my eyes
Mixed with falling tears.

A child consumed,
Both physically and
Will shut down
Rooted to the ground,
Rationality removed
From thought, and action
Or lack thereof.


And then,
From in between shoulders,
I could see my Father.
His usually stoic face appeared,
Contorted with fear.
An expression which I was sure,
Was reflected
Upon my own face.

Relief upon my rescue.
Quelled any unease,
Which came when he spoke.

His words were stern,
“Don’t wander off”
But his eyes betrayed his tone.
Relief, the only thing
We both had come to know.

Safety brings comfort,
And once it is felt
Dread is quickly forgotten.

Free Verse: Why I Write

I write
For all the wrong reasons.

I have
So much within me
That I want to write,
But never feel able
To transfer to paper.

When I am at my best
I throw myself
Into all things
Which require it,
Leaving no time
For something
As trivial as writing.

When I’m busy
Writing feels
Like a selfish,
Waste of time.

I write
Mainly for myself,
And rarely share
What I create.

I think
It’s finally time
To admit to myself
Just how unhappy I am.

I am in a position
Where I feel powerless.
Like I’m living a life
That is not my own.
I am powerless
To change anything
Without ruining the lives
Of those around me.

I am
In a position
Where I must choose
Between my own personal happiness,
Or the happiness of my family.

Worst of all,
I don’t even know
If my family
Are truly happy.

They perpetuate
The existence
That they have lived
But for no reason
(That I can see)
Than the fact that
That is the way they have
Always done things.

But if the life I lead
Is not my own,
Then the decisions
That I may have
The power to make,
Are not just my decisions.

As long
As my family need me
To sacrifice
Myself for them,
I must do so,
Without hesitation.

For it is only when they
Are able to see the need
To free us all
From the situation
They hold us in,
That we will ever
Truly be free.

Without the blessing
And agreement
Of the family,
We can never move on
Or apart,
As the structure
Which we currently have
Will never return
Once abandoned.

And while we will no longer
Be bound by responsibility,
We will still remain
Bound by guilt.

Free Verse: Who I Am

I lie, to no-one
But Myself.
Honesty, harder
Than most other things

I choose not to write,
Not because I have no inspiration
But because I am afraid.

A lack of desire
To open up
Even if just to myself.
The introspection which comes
From limitless creativity
Can overwhelm
A chaotic mind.

Yes, I have known,
But not,
For the longest time.

My current mindset
So deeply ingrained
Within my life.

Change is required,
But to change
A mind changes
A person.

What would I change?

Where I live?
Where I work?
My hobbies, my studies…
All aspects of my day to day life.

If these things changed
Would I be the same person,
Or would new experience
A new person?

My own desires feel selfish,
Wanting to be happy
Leaves me feeling guilt
To much guilt to try
To Change


I was born to care
I myself
Am nothing.

With no purpose
Other than to ensure
The happiness of others
A facilitator of need
Any need
Other than my own.

I wish I had purpose
I wish I had passion
I am the embodiment
Of Nothingness.
A void, unfilled.
Creates nothing
But disappointment.

I am worthless.

My mind
Turns to thoughts
Of suicide.
Not as a course of
Action, but as an option.

Like a preparation,
For an option, I know,
I will always have.


It’s easier,
To write that word
Than it should be.

I suppose that is
The scary part
Of depression.
Reckless self-preservation,
The catalyst,
An irrational mind.

I can’t
Feel happy,
Because happiness
Eludes me.

Soon things will change,
It is inevitable.
And as changes occur,
Perhaps too many
All at once,
You will change too.

Haunted by words,
Never dared to be spoken
Aloud, but in my mind
They are shouted
On repeat.

Are the words that haunt us,
Ever worth reflecting on?

It is hard.
Yet I know,
I will move away
From this way of thinking
And likely soon.

As changes occur
So to will I,
Cease to be.
The version of myself,
That I am.

I am strong.
I am passionate.
I am dedicated.
I am…I am…


That word.
Why does it always linger
At the back of my mind.

I feel it sometimes
My soul
Tarnished, broken
Beyond repair.

I feel like the damned.
Perhaps my penance,
Self-imposed though it is
Serves as punishment.

To serve others,
Showing them the route
To happiness
But finding none myself.

I hate myself.
Not all of the time,
But often enough,
To still be concerning.

I am harrowed,
But by neither fear,
Nor wonder.

Life is but a shade,
Upon a broad spectrum,
And I,
Too close to the edge,
Am lost
In the grey monotones
Of life.

Life just left me
On Pause.

I walked away
And fear
I will not return.
Yet, if I may
Choose to return
I hope that I can
Start living
The life I have always wanted.

I just wish I knew
How to be

I have questioned
The aspects of evil
Which plague me
They are vague
And intangible.

This outburst of sorrow
Is not a true reflection
Of anything.
It should inform,
No reason
For decisions
Yet to be made.

Whilst in this state of mind,
My catalyst for introspection
A haze of drugs
And alcohol,
Offer me no truths.
In their reflection
Instead, you are left
Shut off, and unable
To deal with life
In a productive way

And so I find myself,
Looking to change.
To find a way
To deal with life
Becoming part
Of the life
I am living

The relationship
Of most importance
The one you have,
With yourself.

From within
Prepares you to change.

Holding on to the life
You have had
Stops you
From taking the hand
Of the life you want.

Being one person.
Doing one thing.
Leading one life.

I need to begin
To find out,
Who I am.

Who am I?

A question,
That shouldn’t be so hard,
To answer.

Sonnet: A Mother

A daughter, sister, friend and a lover,

She was all of this before a mother.

From a child she became a woman grown

Her precious time was rarely spent alone.


Inherently passionate and caring,

Above all else she was kind and sharing,

Of her love, her time and all she could give,

Through the unfairly short time she would live.


But the time she had, she made the most of,

Sharing her time with her chosen truelove.

Then three new souls, created together,

Became her desire, her earthly tether.


Though she is gone and her presence we lack,

We love you mum, to the moon and back.


Written on Sunday, 13 May 2018

I still can’t shake a feeling that has consumed me for a while. It is a sense of impending doom. Dread which lies in the pit of my stomach, gnawing at me from the inside out. I live the life I have so far lived, as but a dreamer would. Wandering from scene to scene, never really engaging with things, and when I finally find something worth engaging with, it changes or fades away.

I am inexperienced in all of the things that matter, and the longer I go on into the unknown of life, the less I seem to know.

I want to feel confident that I am being me, the truest version of myself, but I feel compromised, unable to express a part of me that I do not fully understand. 

I want more than I currently have, but to attain it, I fear I will have to become something I am not ready to be. Whole.

There was perhaps a time where I was happy, and I was ready to be anything. But at some point, I either strayed from the path or chose one to narrow and confined to allow me any room for error. Now the path that lies before me is overgrown with thorns and vines and I stumble at every step forward. Backwards is just as treacherous, just as difficult. No, I cannot go back. To embrace even a facet of what I want does seem to show me a way forward that isn’t just to lie down and wait for death to claim me.

If I persevere, perhaps I can move forwards, really embracing what I am. What I want to become.

Another ramble of words that sound like I am making progress, but even as I write, I know that they hold no meaning. They are the words inscribed on the wall that surrounds my emotions, they are the mantra that keeps me moving forward, without ever truly engaging with where I have been. I wish I understood my emotions, but they are as confusing as they are elusive.

To live, I simply have to participate in life. The longer I sit and hope that life happens to me, the longer I will sit and observe, never truly knowing happiness.

I have things that I am truly blessed to have, so why can’t I see them for what they are?

I wish there was an easier way to move forward, but that is not the point of life. It is facing that which is difficult, which gives us the challenge we need to know that what we are doing is what we want to do.

It is finding a challenge that is worth overcoming that shows us what we want, and what we are willing to work for.

Passion is about finding that which drives you. 


I feel trivial. I used to consider myself a specialist in my field. I used to believe that what I did had an impact.

Today I spent an hour at work cutting paper and glueing the work of children onto it. Work that will perhaps adorn a wall for the next six weeks before being discarded, left at the bottom of a school bag or otherwise forgotten.

I have been relegated to the most basic of tasks, and I question my value as well as my purpose. This new job is not a forever job I know. Yet the loss of my job at the end of March was a loss not just of a vocation, but of my own identity.

So many potential decisions. So many possibilities, stalling to choose for fear that the choice I make is wrong. How can I choose what is right for me, if I cannot say with any certainty who I am?

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