Her hands.

I want to fight her battles.
I’m trying hard not to intervene.
I’m trying to reason what I hear,
And accept there will be things I haven’t seen.
I want her to think of others,
But not to give in to all demands,
The hardest thing about this,
Is that her life in her hands.

Oh my word.

I miss the world I thought I lived in.  I new it wasn’t pure.  I thought it mainly good intentioned.  Of a trajectory, I was sure.  I miss the world I thought I lived in.  I am so scared now of the truth.  I had such hopes for progress.  I miss the innocence of my youth.  I believed that good would prosper, Even if it had to fight.  I have always sworn off politics, But, oh my word, this is not right.  

Embedded.

The fear is never far away.  
Behind it waits regret.
A worry, once embedded,
Is something you can’t forget.
Perhaps just for a moment,
Maybe even three,
But once the fear’s embedded,
You are no longer truly free.

Another go.

You tried to be brave.  I’m proud of that.
Even if you dropped at this last gate.
There’s time for us to get this right.
To stand up for yourself and against hate.
You tried to be brave.  I’m proud of that.
I had to tell you so.
You will remember how proud I was,
And you will give it another go.

In her head.

You deserved the criticism,
But then she felt the guilt.
She is partly to blame.
This is what she’s built.
It’s just hard always pushing,
And not getting help or thanks,
Whilst your every want and need,
Drive through her life like tanks.
She is too accommodating,
It is often said,
But you do not hear the thoughts,
That are swirling in her head.

Ship.

I know what I want to say,
But it’s not flowing right.
It’s about always trying so hard,
But not doing my best tonight.
Aiming to be the best I can,
And improve further every day.
Wanting to always be a light,
That’s me, that’s my way.
So, some days, when I get it wrong,
Although my intentions were good,
Hurts my heart.  I feel I let you down.
Guilty feelings flow to flood.
Half my mind tells me I handled it.
Half my mind tells me I failed.
All I can do is pause and learn.
Tonight’s ship has now sailed.

Grey haze.

Here I sit,
In the twists and turns of life,
The moments of joy,
Then the twisted knife.
Priority setting,
An individual thing.
Much like what,
Makes your worn heart sing.
I have mine,
They make sense to me.
If I could fully embrace them,
I think I’d feel free,
But is that a lie I tell myself?
Am I picking dream images,
Off a shelf?
Would there just be other items,
To darken my days?
To cover the gold,
In a thick grey haze.