A little circle
it spins around and around and around
maybe I'm thinking too hard
Or maybe I'm just dizzy.

Childhood is like snuggling in a big, warm blanket.
Then, as I grow older,
I lay my arms over the top.
I become an adult, and the blanket is ripped away from me,
just like my mum used to do when I wouldn't wake up to my alarm.
Quick, and cold.
I shiver.

early morning
i drink
although all it will do
will tire me
i am bored in this class.

I write music.
I write music and I sing,
I sing a lot.
I play the piano,
I play piano and I write music and I sing.

there are many nice words,
some more eloquent, others simple
but still beautiful in their simplicity,
and I use these to accurately (or as accurate as I can get)
to express the intense emotions I feel with my whole chest
with my whole head.
I write
because it's my freedom.

There is a garden that I want to go,
a place where I can be alone,
a place where I will hang my head -
quite literally, because that's where I've planned to be dead.