This Is Me

This dark cloud lingers over my bed, There are words I want to say just Running through my head. They crash. They collide. They cut me up inside. I want to voice my feelings, But my feelings make me cry. - This pierced body talks, with fabulous intent. With tattoos spiraling full Of confident consent. It's lying. It's wishing. It's full of dream ambition, This artwork is my first full draft, Of one girl's hard transition. - Tablets are an option, To help with fighting back, But I must not be labelled when I can pull through most attacks. It's frightening. It's frustrating, Listening to other's slating. When the body wants to leave The mind so bravely shy, It's like living in a world, in which one must live a lie. - My anxiety, it controls me. Sometimes it has a hold on me, It leads to all decisions. Self harm, Weight obsession, No friends and depression. Anxiety, it's confusing. Coughing on words and lines That I write so easily. Who

Her warm outdoor coat, And her beautiful feet, His woolly thick coat, To add extra heat. Her wobbly legs, And instinct to flee, Are those the animals, That you see? She's feeding her young, He's guarding her side, She nuzzles his nose, His head high with pride. She feeds on the grass, Peace present in her life. We shouldn't rip her babies, Out of her life. She plays with her mother, Jumping with glee, Compared to a tummy, The wild is so free. She wants to grow up, Strong like daddy, And taste the fresh grass, It's cool on her knees. She has beautiful eyes, And a soft brown coat, Her tail sways, And her shadow floats, Children watch with complete awe, As baby stumbles to the floor, Yet stands again, clumsy and tall, Nothing deters baby, Not even a fall. So let them stand, upon those hills, And let them play among the dew, Let them live until old age, Don't ever take their rights away. Would you snatch a human from its life,

It is quite incredible how a version of life can begin. Mine personally began in a rented, mold-ridden two bedroom house in Cleethorpes, with very little money and very steep stairs. Whilst I was living there I didn't realize just how much it has meant to me. I painted every room in the house right up until I was nine months pregnant. I changed it from a lifeless house into a home absolutely brimming with love. I still pass it every weekday, on my way to work. I still glance at my door. My sign still hangs there. No junk mail . I could once open that door and on my wooden floor would lay a mat, to wipe our feet on those cold winter days. I bought it during pregnancy. It read, "little monster lives here". The mud marks on that mat would never quite come off. They irritated me. How I miss my mat. I used to walk through the hall, it was cold, but now painted a beautiful mint and purple. I wanted my house to be bright, like a rainbow. Full of happiness. Every ro