i am surrounded by a longing for love,
dust, dust, dust.
tiny eyes watching, we walk carefully
they’re still learning, we’re remembering to breathe
through the dust.
beds so crowded, clothes so torn
there’s a war against the world going on.
this is the playground of death,
children are his cans to kick
with their smiles as small as themselves
pitter patter, pitter patter, the littlest footsteps
are walking into my heart.
our group tiptoes through their house
bringing good homes and love
but there’s never enough
oh, how i wish i could turn dust to love
“break it off” or
“never settle for less” or
it’s “unfair” on both of us
not just two.
two and a half,
because the half matters when you’re little.
but i’m too young to understand why Mammy
rubs this coolness on my chest,
how it’ll hurt a little less
if I just give it a chance.
so, i’m two.
not too small to speak
but too young to be heard.
i cry when my Mam tries
my mouth open, medicine in
they hear i don’t want it,
yet i’m still too little for them to listen.
but now, I’m not just two.
but people still say I’m ‘too.’
too young for friday nights in, even if going outside isn’t my thing
too old for pokémon, unless it’s pokémon go – that’s the exception
too much of a girl to deserve equal body rights
and too much of a woman to support feminism
without being called a misandrist
and, I’m still not heard
but I can’t put it down to age anymore
I was too young, but I grew
then too quiet, so I started to shout
then too loud, so I learned to speak
but next I was too bossy (I wasn’t really)
so I began to just think
and breathe in my own thoughts
and let them go like CO2
the unwanted byproduct of being too alive.
i tried to love you
and love me,
the way you do but
i am a failure
i wish you’d
weed: noun, a plant in an undesirable situation.
i lie in a bed of weeds.
dandelions and daisies
grow around me
as i bleed
we are one.
he grabbed me by my roots,
left me where i belong.
not in his garden of colour and life
for to him, i
was just a plant
in an undesirable situation.
my body is numb
my mind can see
even if colours
have drained to grey
the warning bells
the traces of his fingers
still linger on my skin
i can feel them drawing
shapes on my body