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Ew, you sponge off the government?

Seriously, I’m sick of hearing that question. To those of you who haven’t read my previous posts: I’m currently receiving Universal Credit, which, to some people, means I’m stealing your hard-earned money. Trust me, I feel physically sick at the thought of it. Really, I do. I’m the kind of person that has to be occupied. There’s rarely any moment in most days where I don’t want to be doing something. Even writing this blog-post allows me to feel somewhat productive. I despise sitting around, strolling through the internet doing… Read more Ew, you sponge off the government?

Final Hour

I’ll never deny my final fate, Aren’t we all destined to sleep? I may never wake, but you will still hear me, Through the ears of your minds memories. My final thoughts will be of my past, For I know that life was bliss and fruitful. In my final hour, I’ll whisper your name, Maybe then I can leave gently.


I recall those moments when it was just you and I, Hiding under the moonlight as our feet moved to the silence. With your eyes on mine, and your feet slowly following, I ignore the whispers of the unwanted gazers. The sound of our footsteps make up for the lack of music, Yet we both know we don’t need any. The scratching gravel moves to our shoes, As the moonlight covers our bodies. That was your time, your glistening in the night, That, was your moonlight.

The Wrong Track

Sitting here, I think of nothing. When I gaze in the mirror, it’s nothing more than a blank expression. Do you have those moments when you don’t know who you are? Do you have times of complete obscurity? I can feel my skin, but it doesn’t feel right, It feels like a shell of someone else. Perhaps I’m mad, but I am still me, That’s what I hope in this world of delusion. I’m forced to live a life of taxing, I’m forced to suppress my expressive side. I’m taken… Read more The Wrong Track

A Blank Page

The purity of a heart can be corroded with rage, When one gazes upon the wrong turn of a page. The words written may be painful to see, Perhaps that page was even written by me. We all expect a dream to drift by soon, It’s what we dwell on under the light of the moon. The next page is yours, as it’s blank and new, So remember this blessing, the free life that was gifted to you.

What’s Wrong With Me?

I know I’m far from perfect, That’s why my memories are embarrassments. I’m far from the ordinary, I’m not the world’s perfect image, But I’m me. Isn’t that all we can ask for? I don’t wish to look like a movie star, Nor do I wish to sound like an artist. But if that’s so, they why do I recall dreadful events? Why did I say that? Why did I do that? I keep asking myself: what’s wrong with me?

Before We Begin

I want you to take the time to understand, There’s much to learn, this is no plain text. Before we begin, I want to view your start, Not my own, as I’ve seen enough of my world. Let me take a dive in the depths of your desires, So this for me, and I’ll show you what’s next. Before we begin, let me decorate your time, I’m not here for a quick skipping stone


I wonder if it is only me, Who is blind to all they should see? I cry in pain, and I wonder how, How many people can hear me now? There are voice in my head at times, But they whisper things of such vile crimes. I need a hand to help me through, I need a guide as strong as you.