If I could wind back the hands of time.
And reach the things
I've left behind.
I'd find the child
A troubled girl.
I'd catch her
Before she unravelled.
I'd hold her hand
Whilst she travelled.
I'd help her find
An Ear in which
She could confide.
I'd cut down
Those brambles
To clear a path.
So she would have
A different past.
The teen would send that application
And succeed in her vocation.
The single mum
Should have left,not run.

She'll never know the pain that I feel,
The loneliness that's all too real.
A mental health center she'll never see,
Friends always there, begging for her company.
She'll never feel the urge to end it all,
Or suffer from parents' abuse, now long gone.
Stealing and cheating, she'll never do,
She'll have a perfect life, it's true.
My mom says she's the favorite child,
With more friends than I had in a while.
She'll never disappoint, like I seem to do,

Dad's up in the bathroom
And he's locked the door
We can hear his frantic footsteps on the floor
Up the stairs we go
To what we'll find
We just don't know.
Mums getting herself all in a tizz
Cos Dads having a turn
And he's in crisis
Mum opens the door
And then we can see
Dads opened the skylight
As wide as can be.
I want to run i want to flee
I gaze at the plank
At his feet where hes stood
Oh god mum says
Hes up to no good.

The devil, you’ll find
Is really quite kind
charming and
handsome to boot
Irreverence is his
A blessing he’ll give
When you find yourself
Filling his shoes
Be dismayed or deplore him
You cannot ignore him
In the moments
That might have been yours
He'll turn to the choir
When there's no one in the pews
Pious legs too spent from spreading
Can't remember how to choose

A lonely poet swallows his tongue
his words can cast him into oblivion
a widow is mourning her loss of the broken
her replacement
is far more validating

The widow meets the poet as she believes he is singing a siren song
although
his rhymes are not written for performance
she has not yet placed her foot on the second step

A thousand parasitic poets
disguised as trinkets
hydrated
from the widows watering eyes

Her irises
capture
the drama
of the trinkets' wars against time

The pain, the darkness,
I'm under attack.
All roads are closed,
No going back.

At a standstill, a place
Of no return.
A crossroad of decision,
Still so much to learn.

Going the wrong way,
Headed for hell.
Who has the answer?
They won't tell.

Stuck in an endless rut,
Of what could be.
Taking care of everyone,
Forgot about me.

The pass haunts me,
No looking back.
Hey, here's Karma with
Another smack.

Miss Jones – No!

Don’t play me like you do.
My strings are not so taut
that I can stand your mellow tones,
nor will my bow sleep in my hand
whilst you seduce me with your notes.
Though I’m tied to another’s band
my quavers, unquivered, will shoot your heart.
With crotchets flying to your breast
I will play my best scored part
and all your worries will soon depart.
Once our music has done its thing
and minims note where birds should sing
you will breve your last sweet sigh

I don't know if you remember
A time not so long ago,
When we could choose to disagree
And no anger had to flow.

We could often find some neutral ground
And agree to give and take,
To listen to opposing views
And decisions there to make.

We didn't have to change our stance
As we listened to the news,
We just had to try to understand
Other's thoughts and points of view.

She wore her favorite shirt that day,
A loosely fitting black shirt
With three-quarter sleeves
And buttons up the front
That could be worn over a pull-over.

To the ER she wore her favorite shirt,
Not wanting dinner or even a snack,
A gnawing pain within her stomach,
A disquiet too strong to be ignored
She needed more help than I could give.

I think we all have stories sad
From our past we just can't tell,
About those times so long ago
And more recent ones as well.

Through our scars there is a story
That we never should forget,
And if we try to learn from them
Some peace we might find yet.

But time can be a teacher
To show us how from hurt to grow,
A time to find a way to heal
So some comfort we might know.