Writing my way back to me
September 19, 2026
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You might be wondering why my smile’s not here Truth is, she’s stepped aside to make space for the wear and tear. The grind has been chewing at my peace
You might be wondering why my smile’s not here Truth is, she’s stepped aside to make space for the wear and tear. The grind has been chewing at my peace
The thief was never life or time, It was me, my fear and my own hesitation to climb. I used to wait for courage to ride in strong, For signs
Can anyone help me find my Mojo? I’m not sure where she’s gone. Maybe she saw my to do list and panicked, Either way, she’s stayed away far too
We behave as though each dawn is promised That morning light will always fall Forgetting how one fragile heartbeat Might never rise again at all. We move through days half-heartedly,
I have been working on this poem for over a year, after watching birds go about their daily business whilst i was sat on a bus going into work. –
People used to preach that addiction meant you were broken, But now there’s a movement proving recovery is louder than any stigma spoken. People once claimed addiction was a moral
My mind was once a jigsaw, scattered and torn, There was no frame to guide, no picture born. My worries were rehearsed, and arguments were spun, And a trillion dreams
The launch is near. I ask, am I prepared? To bare my soul, to stand declared. It’s one thing to write with truth in hand, Another way to let the
The ones who show up at the drop of a hat, Even when their own hearts might feel heavy and flat. The ones who don’t push, but walk by your
She’s been called bossy, loud, a pain in the arse,Told to “smile more” or “don’t be so harsh.” But she’s not here to shrink or play nice.Cos she’s made out of