All over the TV

This girl can bare the character of many faces, Believe me she’s going places, On the right path she’s going to the top,
She ain’t never gonna stop.
Her big dream,
Achievable,
Not a fantasy,
Reality,
This is her destiny.
All the bumps fuel the pumps of ignition,
She’s wound up and ready to go, Despite many attempts of ruining her flow,
You supported her she needed that,
But now all is lost,
To the debt of a mighty cost, Once proud now ashamed and distant practically lost.
I never meant to embarrass you, I never meant to let you down,
I never took away all the air,
I never wanted to drown.
Now so many have surpassed me,
I see them all over TV,
Whilst I stay back suffering from mental fragility,
I know the top is a place,
A place that has no room or space for a loser like me,
Mentally fit and positively different I wish it could be, I’ll be the one on the box for all to see,
I’ll be the one making you proud cashing in the money,
And because I’m not,
You’ve forgotten how to love me,
I never needed you back then when I was independent and strong,
I was on the right path on the right track and knew where I belong,
Out of everything that I’ve lost what saddens me the most is losing you,
I’m truly sorry for any pain or torture I put you through,
I wish you understood that my mental instability is not not a path that I would have chosen for me or to hurt you,
BPD is not what I ever believed I had,
Would ruin me,
Ouch this path pains me,
More than it does you,
It’s true,
And no matter what though,
I love you.

All The Worlds A Stage; Like The Great Man Said…

All the world’s a stage,
And we are merely players,
Shakespeare told us the secret,
But missed out the complex layers.

You see,
As this earth is constantly spinning,
Simultaneously,
So is the wheel of Fortune,
And like lottery balls,
We are catapulted into the game,
The game of life.

Fate plays it’s hand,
Where we are born,
How we are born,
When we are born,
Pot luck,
Chance determines our paths.
Manipulates our character.

Must we accept what lye’s ahead,
Or maybe choose,
Pick what genuinely suits us?

Change,
Upgrade,
Control our own destiny?

Quit all together,
And terminate whatever!

Dorris.. To those forgotten and those that forget!

To the one’s that we have lost to suicide, that were to ill or lonely to reach out to the estranged people in their lives that they felt were to far away to reach out!

Dorris was your very first friend at play group,
Someone else’s best friend through primary school,
The girl you wanted to be like at secondary school,
Your girl at college,
Your rival at university,
Your colleague at your first place of work in the adult world,
Your drinking buddy,
Your weekend partner in crime,
Someone special to you at some time in your life.
Your relative,
Your lover,
Your soul mate,
Friend,
Or someone that you used to know.
Time,
Distance,
Change,
And circumstance came between you,
Dorris became someone you meant to call but never got round to.
Whilst you were busy living,
Dorris fell behond and ill,
You heard about it,
Had an inclination that things were bad,
But not serious enough to kill.
Crying to a sad song,
A movie,
Or tragedy on the news,
Dorris longed to walk in your shoes.
Dorris had been conquered by serious mental health issues,
Suffering from the deathly blues,
But none of you came forward,
Not one of you’s!
Now that she is dead and gone,
You remember her,
Have time for her,
Regret not contacting her,
Kick yourself for not visiting her,
And it is terribly sad,
But you just didn’t realise that things got so bad.
Now it is to late,
For Dorris in any case.
Don’t make the same mistake twice or more,
Man up,
Clear the cobwebs,
Even if you feel sore,
Forget about your shame in failure and neglect,
Just contact your Dorris now,
To avoid a lifetime of regret,
Reach out to her,
Before she becomes the next suicide suffragette.
Recognition, apologies and compassion are for the living,
Not the dead.
Treasure moments and time with the ones that you care for,
Who knows how long any of us will be here.
Please enjoy them while it lasts.

Making Friends…

Someone very wise once told me that if when we die, we can count all of our friends on one hand, we have had a good life

You would think that making friends would get easier with age,
Practice makes perfect,
We have been doing it all of our lives,
But on the contrary,
As we grow we obtain baggage,
It weighs us own,
We become more complex,
Less daring,
Less innocent,
Less forgiving,
And shut the door to the unknown,
Which we once welcomed with open arms,
We were not deterred by thoughts, worry or fear,
Our guards were once down,
But today,
Inevitable pain from loss and rejection effect’s us so much,
We learn to barricade ourselves off for protection,
But then often find ourselves alone!