The Struggles of the Larger ‘Regular-Sized’ Woman

I don’t really know what I want to talk about today, but I know that I do. Maybe it’s a way for me to subconsciously put off my essay research, but I hope not.
I was just browsing Facebook when I came across a post from The Curvy Fashionista about the launch of a new store, Lovesick, and I really love the look of it. What I find most satisfying is when I see a store with models similar to my own shape and size, working their clothes. This is more common with ‘plus size’ stores, like Lovesick, than with shops that stock the ‘regular sizes’. Which I find odd, considering they usually begin in the UK at around 18, maybe even 16, but America is a bit different. Lovesick begins at ‘US10’, which is a UK 14. I myself am 12-14. And yet, many of the ‘plus size’ models, mainly in America, don’t look ‘plus size’, just like larger ‘regular sized’ women and I say larger, in comparison to the smaller women that the shops here use to advertise their clothes on.

It’s quite confusing really, seeing these great clothes on women that look like myself, but are not actually stocked in my own size because I’m ‘too small’; which makes me laugh due to all I’ve ever heard in my life, except for 1 time in a million, is how large I am. And while clothes for ‘regular sized’ women look great on the small models and the hanger, I can never tell what it will look like on me. Half the time shopping is a nuisance. My thighs are larger, in proportion to my hips and bum, and my boobs are much bigger than my waist. Shops don’t account for any of these factors and the models for ‘regular sized’ clothing don’t seem to struggle at all. The clothes seem to fit like a glove or a second skin. The same can be said really, for when some of my friends go shopping. It can be so frustrating seeing how successful try-ons are for them, when the dress I really like in my size won’t even go over my chest.

Or likewise with the tall ranges, which to me are a rare occurance, other than New Look, I can’t even think of one without looking at hideously over priced shops. I remember the excitement of finally finding a playsuit that didn’t produce both front and back wedgies. It was plain black and pretty basic, but I was so happy. I have had struggle after struggle in terms of length, where my torso seems longer, in proportion, to my legs. I remember a day I went in to Primark with one of my friends, of the ideal ‘regular-size’, and we tried on some stuff and I fell in love with a ridiculous looking playsuit covered in gigantic sunflowers, as is my style, and it only managed to reach half way up my chest, without causing unnecessary discomfort and camel-toe.

I dream of the day when women of many different sizes can be seen modelling clothes and this confusion of being a larger ‘regular sized’ woman is no more.

If you are a US10 + I’d definitely recommend looking at these clothes from Lovesick, they are so gorgeous and I’m quite jealous actually.

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Quick, Little Soldier!

Screaming and crying,

And yelling, no dying,

It happens every night.

 

Quick,

Escape into the magic wall

That only I can see.

I have to hide, you see,

So Daddy’s temper doesn’t catch up with me.

 

I should be there to fight,

There to help,

But this little soldiers scared,

Because I’m no little soldier;

So why is my house a war zone?

 

Quick-

Don’t wake him!

Creep and be still,

Otherwise the consequences will surely be real.

 

I don’t like Daddy,

When he is like this;

I wish he could be sent into an abyss,

Because then everyone would be happy,

Perhaps, even Mummy.

 

Because I see the tears form in her eyes,

I see the pain she tries to hide,

I see the silent prayers are sung,

As Daddy threatens to have her neck rung.

 

Then Doggy howls,

He knows what this is.

But Daddy doesn’t like Doggy

Everybody knows,

The monster yanks his tail,

Like a teatowel, all soggy.

 

“No Daddy, no!”

Voice no longer contained

No longer am I able to keep this at bay.

Poor Doggy screams,

His masters a brute.

Oh God, no,

Not me,

Not next.

 

“Please Daddy, no!”

Then everything blurs.

The floor gently greets me

As worried voices stir.

 

When will this be over?

When can I be sent home?

The Age of Loneliness

This is so relateable and I feel like I really need to watch this programme.

An author's Life

age of loneliness

When I was first asked if I would consent to being featured in a documentary about loneliness, I was pretty nonplussed.

Although my wife and I had just split up and I was spending at least part of the week living on my own, I still hadn’t come to terms with my own feelings, let alone being ready to talk about them on camera.

Could I really go on the telly and tell people how bereft I felt?

Who would want to hear my tales of woe anyway?

What would my kids say?

What would my mates think?

Come to think of it, I knew the answer to that last question.

Eventually, after some back and forth with the producer about how my story would be handled, I agreed to mull their suggestion over.

That night, I talked to my boys about the documentary.

‘Are you really lonely?’ Joe asked.

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Worst Dressed at the NTAs

http://www.thesun.co.uk/sol/homepage/features/6875069/-Worst-dressed-on-the-red-carpet-National-Television-Awards.html

Each year, not recently, but in the golden days of MSN, the awards season was my favourite. I’d pull up MSN news to catch all of the gorgeous gowns of the evenings and I’d evaluate them myself, as an ordinary 15 year old girl. I’ve always loved fashion and I spent a lot of time studying the fashions of red carpet events. Every time an article would appear, I’d spend ages in the comments: reading other peoples thoughts, agreeing and disagreeing where appropriate. I hadn’t even thought about all of that though until this article from the Sun popped up on my Facebook. I then had the miraculous idea of writing up my thoughts about what was worn and what was said about said garments.

Here are my thoughts:

Yes, Keegan’s ensemble did look a little strange: Maxi skirt with Aladdin style top, wasn’t quite a conventional pairing. The skirt was gorgeous and could have been paired with anything but the top did not do it justice. Although, the more I look at it, the more it does grow on me, I must say. But, it is still a strange pairing. I get the need for showing skin and colour coordinating with Mark but the style of the top, for me, was not a strong point in that outfit. It showed off her flat front but added unnecessary volume to her sides. I can’t really see where ‘Mary Tudor’ came from. Mary and Aladdin dressed very very differently, but go for it.

I thought Jorgie Porter looked stunning. However, her make up made  face look very gaunt in that particular picture and more spaced out than space man. I’d need to see more pictures to tell whether it was the make up or just a poor photo, but I have an inkling that it was just a poor picture. The dress was gorgeous and she was very lucky to wear this gown. I don’t quite see the need for such a skimpy body suit underneath, particularly in such cold weather but hey, She’s the  celebrity, not me!

I feel as though the writer, Hayley Richardson, over did it with Tess Daly’s dress stating: ‘Tess Daly also wasn’t afraid to flash the flesh’, ‘…a racy cut-out panel…’ and ‘While she’s got the legs for it, it left little to the imagination.’ These statements over exaggerated what Tess was actually showing off, massively, in my opinion by looking at the pictures provided. Her upper half was covered, no cleavage to bare, no tummy, no bum, only a bit of leg and it was a mesh panel, not a full open slit. I’d call it a classy gown, not a racy one. Tess certainly does have the legs for the dress so why not show a bit of them? And the dress is done in such a way that she can show off, and still have plenty to keep for ‘the imagination’, not that Tess Daly’s body is what goes around my imagination but, what ever floats your boat, I suppose.

Graham Norton was an interesting choice to write about, a long side Billy Connelly. Both are well known for their humour, eccentricity and general brightness. Of course, Norton was going to wear something funky and eye catching and of course, Connelly was going to wear some kind of Tartan. I didn’t see neither of those things as a shocker at all, nor does it look hideous on them. Their confidence has given life to what they wear. I think that Connelly’s trousers were pretty spot on too, not only showing off his awesome eccentricity, but also some intelligence. I’m sure there were at least a few members that attended the NTAs that would have difficulty spelling the word ‘parasite’, so go Billy! The thing about what Connelly wore is that… it was meant to be bonkers, it was meant to look mismatched, it was meant to catch the eye. He had a message last night and what better way to get it across than by getting fashion writers snapping up his outfit? Because, lets face it, that’s why most of us watch these things. We humans, take a large amount of interest in the aesthetic. Connelly’s not stupid.

Katie Price’s description was pretty spot on: ‘Meanwhile Katie Price looked like she’d raided her kitchen cupboards in search of a bin bag.’ No truer words have been spoken throughout this whole article. It’s the one thing I think I actually agree with. I don’t particularly like Katie Price, I did not rate the dress highly and I wasn’t keen how she had attempted to match it with a top knot either. it really was just a sack. Her hair had more shape. It certainly was an… unusual look but I don’t think she pulled that off at all.

Alesha Dixon was another celeb that I felt was being picked on a bit because I think her ‘judge-ment’ was brilliant. She went classic black blazer, high waisted black shorts, and a pretty navy top and gave the look edge by matching it to sheer black pleated palazzos. I’m a huge fan of palazzo style trousers and this outfit absolutely rocks them. They look so flattering on her and add texture to the dark outfit, yet Richardson wrote: ‘These high-cut shorts adorned with pleated sheer trousers barely covered her modesty.’ Making such a bold statement does little for the writers modesty, but what can we do?  I don’t see any issue with Dixon’s outfit.

‘Lady C’. Who the hell is ‘Lady C’!? The gown, for a start, looks more pink than white and says prom rather than red carpet. Secondly, this clearly, was a publicity stunt which Richardson gave into. I didn’t know who she was by looking at her. Her name rings a bell from some reality tv show but, other than that, does she have any accomplishments? I guess this will be a job for Google. Her over accessorisation suggests to me, that she’s trying to pretend she’s royalty. She has money and a title, therefore she must attend the red carpet looking like middle aged woman reliving her prom night. I’m sure in a few years time I too, shall wear my old prom dress and glide through my house on a fake red carpet.

Update: I have Googled. She is very well informed on the Royal family. That explains things, and her titled was gained from a 14 month marriage… Hm.

The next one on the list Boy George. His shirt was untucked, wouldn’t have called it untidy though, nor would I have said it looked like he was wearing tracksuit bottoms. I don’t find satin particularly comfortable at the gym, but whatever, I understand the point about the trainers but this is the NTA, not the Oscars. Not even the BAFTAS. He could wear his bloody PJs down the red carpet and people would just have to suck it up. I can see why he wants to appear hip and cool. He’s trying to break through into TV from wherever he’s been hiding and clothes are the quickest way to do that. I think the top half is particularly smart and I dig the hat. His eye make up is particularly amazing and I think I need his make artist to live with me forever. Red on the other hand, is an unfortunate choice for many red carpet walkers. It’s very easy to appear to look like a piece of the carpet.

If you liked this, look into the ‘worst dressed on the red carpet’ give this article a like and check out my other stuff! The link is attached above so take a look and let me know what your thoughts are too! Cheers lovelies! xx

 

 

I Have Returned!

Hello everyone. After a long spell away from WordPress (unfortunately, not from the keyboard) I have returned. I have a whole bunch of new topics to write about and moan about ect. ect. hopefully, for your enjoyment.

Where have I been?! I hear one of you rhetorically ask, well. That is a very good question and I’m glad one of you rhetorically asked it. My being away has been down to a number of this: Struggling to cope with being me, university life and life in general. I’ve found it difficult to stay motivated and happy. The next thing was Christmas. Coming home in it’s self is a massive rukus. I had lots of arguments with relatives (which didn’t help with the moods), I shopped like a hard session at the gym, I poorly attempted to study (which I shall return back to) and I got engaged! Yes, Sam Wiltshire shall, at some point in the hopefully near future, shall become Sam Clarke.

What’s that reader? How did this happen?  Well, It was Christmas. We had a whole line up of places to go and people to see. In the morning we went to my dads and we all had a lovely time. George was acting a little strange in that he refused to take off his coat, despite it not actually being cold. His words were ‘you know what I’m like’. Yes, I do know what you’re like Mister, and you were being weird. But hey, it was Christmas, I wasn’t going to question it. Anyway, we then went to Dorchester to have dinner at his aunts house with his dad’s side of the family. It was an amazing dinner, I must say. Everyone worked so hard and the results were absolutely delicious. So, I told my mother that we would be joinging then at 3.30pm-4.00pm. It was 3.15 but the time we finished dinner. Yes, I was panicking a little. It was going to take 45 minutes to get back to Yeovil. George was dwardling and I was panicking.

He pulled me out into the hall way and asked if I was happy with him. Well, of course I was! I love him so incredibly much and it was Christmas. How can you be mad at anyone on Christmas? Anyway, I was confused. He took me back into the dining room with everyone else, asked how long I wanted to be with him. Forever, of course, was my answer and BOOM. Clarkus gets down on one knee and whips out the box. Overwhelmed all I could do was try to pull him up and kiss him. At this point I’m sure I could imagine the words that were going through his head: Get off me you crazy bitch and just let me propose to you. So naturally, I had to try and compose myself and try to listen to what he was saying and doing and I was just so shocked that the whole thing is a bit of a blur now. I remember seeing this ring glistening in this little box and I remember seeing his face full of happiness and pride. I remember looking like a complete twat in front of his relatives. Somehow, I managed to say yes and he slipped the ring onto my finger. Rose gold ring set with diamonds and an oval cut stone. “It’s something different and it felt like you.” And I agree, it’s perfect.

What I can never forget it all of the pictures his uncle took of us, and how everyone was crying, including me, of course. I was so glad I refrained from putting make up on because if my screwed up facials didn’t ruin those pictures, the running make up would have. Everyone gave us cuddles and, George’s aunt, seeing how I was quivering like a loose leaf in the wind gave me a glass of champagne to wash it all down. I felt like I needed a lot more than just one glass, however, I had a large in take of sherry through the dessert so it was probably best I didn’t over do it. George took everyone but his mum by surprised and I was glad that everyone was as happy as I was. And at least I had a valid excuse for turning up to my mums so late on Christmas day!

natalie hiding

By the time I got to my mums, we’d announced the situation, everyone was chuffed as punch. My step dad ordered me not to plan the wedding the same year as my mums. I of course, like the angel that I am, promised I wouldn’t even consider upstaging my guardian angel. Upon returning to my sisters in the living room they came together as a choir to sing me the chorus of Goodbye My lover by James Blunt. I think that’s probably been the happiest day of my whole miserable existence. I joke, I’m only miserable on, usually, from Monday to Thursday. Luckily, Christmas was on a Friday.

Anyway, I promise this wasn’t just a post about my engagement. After that, in the New Year, I had to return back to reality (turned out I’d been trapped in some kind of  fairytale) and I had a week or two to complete five pieces of work that counted towards my final grade. This, naturally, did not leave any room for enjoyment and leisure. Leaving behind my fiancé was awfully tough. While the work helped to take my mind off of it, it also stressed me out even more than I needed to be. I saw a counsellor during this point. I said I would get myself booked in last semester and I did. It helped a lot to work out what I was feeling and I booked another for next week. All of my deadlines are done now and its a case of writing as much crap as I possibly can, paint stuff, plan ahead for the next semester so I don’t have this womb ache ever again and spend time with my lover man and the family, because I miss them all like hell too. And Pagan Society stuff. Actually, that’s a point. I’ve made quite a bit of progression with that now and we’re planning to take it even further. I’m very excited.

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Thanks for reading, see you in the next post! xx

How Does Love Come To Be?

Sitting on my grandfathers knee,
I asked him how love came to be.
I just couldn’t understand how you could fall
down to its’ beckoned call.

My grandfather laughed at my foolishness,
when all I could think was: love is a mess!
What kind of girl needs to be saved
by a silly boy that pretends to be brave?

All my grandmother could do was wince.
“Your grandfather was my handsome prince!
My dear, my dear, can’t you see?
Your grandfather was the one that saved me!”

I had heard the story a million times;
I had heard all the lines.
My grandfather, the soldier,
fresh from war,
came running back through my grandmothers door.

Forced to marry a snivelling worm,
my grandfather made his offer firm.
He took my grandmother far away,
but my grandfather wasn’t allowed to stay.

But he fought and he fought;
he wouldn’t let them get caught
by their terrible parents whose approval they sought.

“Yes, grandmother, I do understand,
how my grandfather is an amazing man,
but I do not hope to find
a man who will change my mind.”

The grandmother looked down at her little granddaughter,
eager to see where her story had brought her.
She remained insistent throughout the years,
until the little granddaughter out grew her fears.

Sitting next to her grandfather now,
her back against cold stone.
“Grandfather I see now how love comes to be.
I just wish you were still around to finally see
the incredible man that came to save me.”

Reading Gives You Wings

I used to hate reading. What would possess person to waste all their precious time staring at empty words on a page? It was a boring, rewardless, time consuming punishment. Then I found it. The spark. I felt it change me; my mind expanded, my boundaries became endless. Each book I picked up was unknown territory I had to explore. I became an adventurer. I fell in love with vampires and werewolves, fought demons and dragons, time travelled and ventured to faraway lands.

Reading became my escape hatch. It’s the pair of wings I’ve spent my life pining for. Why had I not found this love sooner? Books are my dear friend now, my secret. They take me away. They make me laugh, make me cry; make me throw them at walls in anger. They make me smile, make me scream and make me fall in love all over. In them, I found my passion; my identity, within the pages along with so many lives I long to live.

It’s not a chore anymore. It’s a gift. Reading is one of the greatest gifts. Sometimes, I wish my sisters could feel this way about books. I wish they could see the magic that the authors of my favourite novels and poems have created. I wish they could feel the same release I do from this ‘boring, rewardless, time consuming punishment’, because then they could get away like I can. They could be anything they wanted to be. They could be free.

Reading is just a part of me now. Without this opportunity for imagination, you see, i imagine it to be like missing an organ or a limb. Too many take the skill for granted and don’t put it to proper use and it’s sad, really because one day I hope to be on the other end. I hope to be the one producing escape hatches and wings. I hope to make people feel for the characters like it’s all real. I hope to help people find their passion. I want to give people the gift like Lauren Kate, Cassandra Clare and Margaret Stohl & Kami Garcia gave me.

Angry Feminist Bottles Man Review

As I was aimlessly wandering about on Facebook, as I do, I came across this video. I’ve been pretty taken by the videos that I’ve come across on Facebook recently and I felt particularly appalled by what had happened. so, I click on this video, unsure of what I was about to behold. I see a vulgar man slut-shaming a woman for wearing a crop top, while waiting for someone, her boyfriend. I think: this woman doesn’t deserve this shit. Crop tops ARE normal. I like crop tops. My sisters like crop tops. My friends like crop tops. And she was perfectly in her to right to wear what she wanted to. She was indecently exposed. She wasn’t asking for the attention she got, or any kind of attention. As the choas ascends, the other men she asks around her for support, deny her such. They appear to back up the vulgar man which leads the man to further degrade her until the two ladies throw food at him. FINALLY, some kind of back up for this woman. I was glad that they intervened, even if it was something as little as throwing a chip at the man. Did he listen to what they had to say? NOPE. ‘He’s a man. He deserves respect.’ No. Just no. No one automatically get respect. It is earned. If you act like a dick, you’re going to be treated like one. As this man so justly was by these two women. The fact that some men really do think this way is troubling for me. What he deserves was.. well… what we shall find out.

Then, finally, some male interjection. Does the man listen to what the defending men have to say? Of course not. He doesn’t see anything wrong with his actions. Everyone else is wrong or are apart of this ‘deal’. He starts getting offensive towards the men. Finally a woman who has been waiting patiently for this man to pipe down finally gets mad and hit him over the head with a glass bottle. She has a go at him then hit him, seeking approval afterwards. When the women seem to half agree, she spits and walks away. I find this bit hard to swallow. Yes, the man needed to be taught a lesson. Yes, I understand that it may have gotten violent one way or another… but was the use of the bottle necessary and was the spitting? He, so far, hadn’t gotten physical with anyone. He was verbally abusive and anyone of them could have given it right back. He didn’t look like a saint or an actor. Someone could have easily made him look like a mug. The fact she looked around to seek approval made me feel like she wasn’t sure that what she did was right. Therefore, looking guilty of GBH or ABH, I’m not sure of the difference. I also personally hate spitting; I find that really vile and unneccesary after she’d bottled him over the head and he’s most likely to be unconscious, but I’ll assume that was done due to the adrenaline rushing through her body.

The last bit of this video I wanted to address was the title. I’ve left this till last because I wanted the previous babble to come back to this conclusion. ‘Angry feminist bottles man’. The separate uses of ‘feminist’ and ‘man’, lead us to believe it was a liberal woman who believes in equality against a conservative man that does not. the use of ‘angry feminist’ makes it seem like she was a loaded gun, completely crazy and without reason. However, this is inaccurate. As I have stated, both women and men stood up for this woman and her freedom of dress. All of these people then, I would regard as feminist, regardless of how radical they acted, they stood up for this helpless person. A more accurate title would then be: ‘Feminism Stand Up To Inequality In Big Showdown’ or something to this effect. Feminism is often thought to be gendered. We forget the men that teach us, grow with us and love us. They are the ones that help the movement to grow. This is something Malala Yousafzai mentioned in her interview with Emma Watson. Men aren’t just part of the problem, they are also a large part of the solution and I think should take some credit in this video.

Thanks for reading, let me know your thoughts in the comments! x

SIDE NOTE: I have just found out that this was in fact a social experiment. I have no idea if the actors are ok but yeah, this wasn’t real. However, responses are real and this is how I felt it should have been acted upon.

Emma, Malala, Education and Equality

Into Film Festival opening Q&A

So, I just watched Emma Watson interview Malala and I felt completely overwhelmed by her brilliance and the brilliance of Emma. Had I have been in the same place as the two, I probably would have fainted or died of whatever it is these two women give off, my guess is intelligence, ideas and inspiration. Seeing two women, or completely different backgrounds coming together for a common cause- global equality and education for all is… I’m awestruck. I grew up with many ideas of my own but I felt because I was a child, I was not entitled to an opinion. I was not able to materialise my ideas. Watching Malala’s interview and how she talks about how age is not a restriction, really did get me thinking. I’d wished this had happened a lot earlier on. Seeing the affects drugs, alcohol and abuse can have on families, I have always wanted to do something about it but I never knew what. It is an issue that is a lot harder to track than education because hypocrisy is still live and well. Despite social media and our dependency on technology, we, like Victorians, still live a dual life. How do you change that?

I felt that because of how old I was, where I lived, where I went to school, who my friends and family were, because of how much money I didn’t have, I wouldn’t be able to make any kind of difference on anyone’s life. I had the dream of building a centre in my ever-growing home town for those ‘broken problem families’. I wanted there to be a safe haven for the scared, where children could have the space they needed and mothers, and fathers, wouldn’t have to keep looking over their shoulder. I knew kids that had to travel from which ever haven they were sent to to school. They’d forget all their equipment, half the time their uniform and they were disorientated. How do you reach out to these people without it seeming like you’re trying to stick your nose in? It’s very hard for a kid to learn anything when all that is going through their minds is what happened the night before with their parents, or other relatives.

And I agree with Malala, that education is so important. Most of what we learn, is what we need to achieve something in life and to contribute to society in some shape or form. I paid a lot of attention in school and had an awful lot of respect for most of my teachers, and even the ones I did not like, I still showed respect for. I didn’t think that I’d need a lot of what I’d learnt in school but recently, I’ve wished that I kept these things up. Hat making is not as simple as it appears to be, when you have forgotten mathematical equations and how to work with textiles. Maths, Science and Languages really are the core to everything but all of the other subjects are far from being useless. It’s true, there are a lot more things we could have learnt about in terms of our society and ‘how to adult’ but these things are buildings blocks for a career and hobbies.

It frustrates me so much when I hear about my younger sisters taking their education for granted and choosing to half-ass it. Getting sent out of class, or worse isn’t cool. You’re lowering yourself by missing something that could be so important to you and your future. There was a group of kids I went to school with who took their education as a joke. Sure, not everyone is going to need the full spectrum of what we learn but it’s better to have been giving a slice of the cake than to not be offered at all, which is Malala’s point. If kids in this country were denied a spot in school there would be an outcry and I bet you a lot more kids would want to go to school. I get the dis-appeal of the daily grind but it is necessary. After you’ve got the knowledge, it’s time to go out and get the experience and that’s all up to you. Education is there so you can just pick your future like an apple from a tree. Without this knowledge, you’ll be picking poisonous berries thinking that you’ve got a handful of blackberries.

My point here is to allow yourself to be inspired and fill yourself with as much as you can. When you allow this to happen, you can make things happen. I feel honoured to be able to have the opportunity to create a Pagan community down in Falmouth, for, hopefully, many to reap the benefits of. It is a breath of fresh air being able to meet like minded people that believe in similar things I do, because faith is not something I’ve ever been able to converse about. I’d also taken an interest in religious studies but I had always felt like an outsider to the conversation. Now I’m beginning to get stuck in and it really does feel lovely to be apart of such a welcoming community where no one is there to judge you. I’ve got a lot of ideas for this community and I hope with them to make some kind of change and to make an impact.

Thanks everyone. I really recommend you watching the interview and see how you come out the other side. Please remember, that each and everyone of you is capable of making change. x

Drawing On The Wall

Break.
Breaking.
Broken.
Fallen angels have spoken:
The devil does not lie beneath hard ground,
But instead lies within our fathers without a sound.

It poisons with greed,
Taunting us with it’s venomous tricks,
Until evil scars our fragile souls and sticks,
Like an ice cold chill,
Or a burning pain that’s not real;
All the fallen fall here.

I thought the fall was mine,
And mine alone.
I thought my identity had been blown.
I thought the pain of tearing wings,
Was mine to keep and own;

Mine to own like the fear of dark,
Mine to own like my own nervous mark,
Mine to own like this lack of memory,
Mine to own like a long lost melody.

And here we are.
We are here,
Escaping our roots,
Our own private hell,
Hidden well.
Within this ridiculous hypocrisy,
The angels are forced to Earth.