"Depression, Fiction and the 'Real World'"

If it wasn’t for my characters,

I would have given up long ago.

I can’t survive in your so-called “real world”.

Mine is the only one I know.

I don’t exist in “real life”.

I’m nobody there – no-one at all. 

My characters live inside my mind,

and trust me with their lives – their secrets. 

I know them.

I know almost no-one at all,

in so-called “real life”.

People only want to judge. 

I don’t belong here at all. 

Depression is closing in on me,

and most days, I can’t even write a thing -

but I won’t give up,

because I can’t.

Yet, I wish I could. 

If all there was here was “real life”,

I know I would give up

right now. 

"Haunted Doll"

You view me as inanimate.

Yet, look into my eyes.

Touch my skin – cracked porcelain.

Can’t you see through my disguise?

First, I’ll play with your possessions.

Then, I’ll move on to your mind. 

I’ll haunt you, even in your dreams.

I am sweetness redefined. 

I only crave attention.

Let me out of my glass case -

if you dare – don’t think I’ll murder

you, in your sleep.  With my pretty face,

what’s not to trust, anyway?

I only want to play.