What if you could see each step you’ve taken, Highlighted upon the ground? Retrace your every memory, Follow your past, until the present is found.
Instead of fingerprints on keys, Listen to the scratching of pencil on paper, Graphite thoughts of a mind that is free, Physical products of your labour.
If you don’t sing when they tell you to stay silent, If you don’t dance when they tell you to sit still, If you don’t laugh in the serious moments, If you don’t live, then who will? Photo by Belinda Fewings (Unsplash)
Look at her meandering smiles, Listen to her gurgling laughs, Feel her mountain-cooled waters, Taste them while they last. Photo by Chris Abney (Unsplash)
Touch the outside, prick your skin, Place it in your mouth, pain within. See its glistening flesh, the pain will be gone soon, A catapult of insignificant thorns, launching you over the moon. Photo by Brooke Lark (Unsplash)
Put your earphones in, Close your eyes, zone out, Listen to the voices that no one else can, Hear them whisper, talk, shout.
Sugar crystallizes on your skin, Mountains of crushed peels thrown away, Shivering as crushed ice cubes falls from your hair, Swimming in a pool of lemonade.
Hands on the keys, gracefully flying,Skin, black, white, a blur,For with an auditory journey,There is visual beauty, too, to be heard.
In a world where books are just journeys,Waiting to come true,Crime is just a horror story,Written about you.
If I were to believe in magic,Fairies and pixies easy to see,And I refused to accept the darkness,I wonder, would it cease to be?