"How Does It Feel?"

Do you feel a sense a power,

when you take a girl without her consent -

from "touching up" to full-scale rape?

What was your intent,

and can your mind not visualise

this same girl, at twenty-five - thirty-five -

forty-five?

Broken - because of what you have done.

Do you not realise

that, when you move swiftly on,

in approximately

five minutes' time -

that she does not - cannot?

Your act will traumatise her

for the rest of her life.

She may never have sex again - never have kids -

may even commit suicide.

How does it feel?

Do you feel a sense of power?

Did it feel good,

after you were finished with her,

had done your filthy deed,

when you watched the girl you had just violated,

watched as your victim broke down and cried?

"Fantasies and Memories"

Fantasies are not optional extras:

add essential colour and texture to her days -

without which - how could she

get through at all?

Reality is relentless - cruel -

lonely and empty, too.

A tear-stained tapestry of memories

reminds her of the

disillusionment

that must arrive soon,

just as it always has before.

In truth, she has been catching

more than glimpses

almost from the start.

She knows the story outline now,

a variation on a standard plot.

Yet, somehow she is still hoping

for a twist, even as

she feels more tears

descending - even though

she knows

that they are tears of

resignation.

"PTSD"

do you realise the pain you cause

when you take what isn't yours

a lifetime of pain

going insane

flashbacks

panic attacks

suicidal thoughts

because you took

what wasn't yours

and you don't even care

"Depression and Loneliness"

There's nothing left. Her passion died.

She's left with nothing but pain inside.

Depression won. Who really cares?

Her heart and soul - all that she shares -


counts for nothing to so-called "friends".


Easier to face the loneliness:

eternal, unending, almost loyal,

so comforting - just like

a blade's caress.

"Genuine?"

The last friends might have let you rot.

You still believe - these ones will not.

It seems okay. It feels so real.

At last - friends who won't make you feel


rejected, ejected - deja vu.

True friends are always there for you -

don't alter rules and boundaries

without explaining - do not freeze


you out, as happened in the past.

They're here to stay. Some things do last.

Not everyone intends to leave

eventually, and make you grieve.


Some people must be genuine -

so give the dream one final spin.

"The Final Flames"

To let her spirit dance, and set her free -

if only. Her own body is her cell.

Entranced by birdsong, nature's melody -

she yearns to heed their call, but feels unwell


day after day. It's not a "lifestyle choice".

Some "choice": to just be stuck indoors again.

Talks to herself - checks she still has a voice.

Facebook, Twitter and You Tube keep her sane -


and make her crazier, at the same time:

the friends she talks to, but can never touch.

Reality has reason, yet no rhyme.

Daydreams are her escape. She dreams too much.


When she comes back, it's always with a crash.

It hurts each time. You'd think that she might learn.

Maybe she'll see it - once her dreams are ash -

once the final flames are duly extinguished,

never to return.

"Amethyst or Discarded"

I want to be the balloon that sparkles

like amethyst, enjoying the sunlight -

but that's me instead:

the discarded carrier bag,

whose destiny

is decided by

each random gust of wind.