I don’t write prose because it’s harder to hide Pretend these words have a deeper meaning inside. Riddles and mixed messages are what I promote Like telling you my mind is tied to a rope Running down that non-existent hill with hopes to witness the morning chill. The lines between fantasy and reality are blurred Fatality appears to be my favourite word With every action, pain incurs so I no longer listen nor am I heard. How can I remember when I can’t forget Cold, but somehow not cold enough yet The frost melts as the sun rises The sand scarred with shut eyelids. Honesty is key...

Do you have a vision… What, like can I see? No, do you have sight of where you want to be. I live the days as they come, he says What happens tomorrow – I can’t guarantee today So why bother trying to be something I’m not Striving towards an ends only to end up in a box. If only lessons could be learnt through words Life is an experience to be lived, not heard Yet schooling seems to be the preferred option Those high horses falling nearest the bottom. I have a rough idea of the way out Sketched in my head is an erroneous route. The checkpoints are determined by ’success’ To...