Over cast 

I feel overshadowed,

Like I am not seen,

I have a voice 

But no one listens,

I am insignificant. 

Prose for Thought

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Morning

The morning has broken,

I hear the pitter pattrer of feet,

here comes trouble,

get read to be jumped,

they come together,

solid as a team,

with a goal,

ultimately to wake

the adults,

how dare they sleep.

They jump and bounce,

even pull the sheets,

OK, I give in,

well done you have succeeded,

your work is done,

now you don’t care,

because the TV is calling you,

well mummy is zomfied,

and ready to start the day.

Prose for Thought

Bag of nerves 

Here we go again,

Shaking like a leaf,

My bag I’d full of anxiety,

Too distressed for all this,

I’m so tense,

I fear I may snap,

I can’t stay still,

I’m on the move,

I’m so scared,

Nothing is worse,

Then this battle within.

I feel flustered and jittery,

The shakes won’t go,

Till I wear me down 

So much so,

The exhaustion 

Acts as a buffer,

Till it starts all over again,

My neurotic mind 

Reaches new levels,

I  am afraid of the future 

Wondering when

It will stop. 

Prose for Thought

Hidden Darkness

Hey readers,

I wrote this poem when I was deep within clinical depression in 2009 and really struggling with life. I was scared and suicidal. It was a dark place, the only thing that helped was sleep and words.

The fear feels real,

you are lost in the dark hole,

all alone and totally isolated,

everything is numb,

yet feeling so much,

my outlook is gloomy,

feel like I am drowning,

deep within me,

I am the enemy,

screaming at me,

I hate myself,

yet I can’t shake it off.

I fear I am trapped in this melancholia,

where all my senses are dampened,

with no outlook,

other then the dark days,

that lay ahead.

I have to fight,

my mind and motivation,

my heart is so heavy,

no wonder I ache,

maybe one day,

brightness will make an appearance.

Cheers for reading X

Prose for Thought

Prison 

Hey readers,

This poem is about mummy prison, relentlessness, change and deals by with sick kid and it never stops but sometimes I just want a break before I scream if I have to watch another octonauts. Some days as parenting goes is shit, it is not beautiful and sometimes it is OK to cry as a parent. The struggle is really and constantly battling the way though all this greyness.

Sometimes my soul is dead,

All it wants is something,

I aching to be entertained,

Instead it’s you walls I see again,

Day in  day out,

I’m crying to get out.

I feel part of me is lost,

I need to get out,

Before I break into tiny pieces.

Is this meant to be like this,

Because no one tells you nothing,

It is so painful it is devastating,

Sometimes I just need to escape,

Before the walls cave in on me,

All you hear us me shout,

I want to get out.
Cheers for reading X

Prose for Thought