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If bought from me, your book will be personally signed 

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50 5 Star Amazon Reviews!
A raw, intimate collection of poetry and original artworks. From hand holding to planning funerals, this is poetry about the human condition at its most raw and intimate.

Video about this book directed by me

He Let A Demon In

 

His once delicate voice

now so harsh and deep,

he let a demon in while dreaming

he couldn’t fight it, far too weak,

he now talks about suicide and fantasises over death

I just hope he says goodbye to me, before he takes his final breath.

 

My heart aches and aches

he doesn’t hug me like we’re in 2005

I don’t mention it though, he’s in pain

and I’m just grateful he’s still alive,

when we touch he’s freezing, he makes my body far too cold

what’s inside of him is not human, stolen, gone is his soul.

 

He doesn’t have long left

the darkness has a tight grip on him

he’s drained, he’s empty, he’s hurting

so he’d rather drown than try to swim,

we talk less and less and less as the weeks go speeding by

so I’ve faced the tragic fact that soon he is going to die.

 

His once delicate voice

now so harsh and deep,

he let a demon in while dreaming

he couldn’t fight it, far too weak,

he now talks about suicide and fantasises over death

I just hope he says goodbye to me before he takes his final breath.

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A brutally honest, raw collection of poetry accompanied with original artwork. This collection pours desperation, confusion and anger as  Michelle describes spending her entire childhood from just twelve years old sectioned, trapped in psychiatric units, being subjected to torturous abuse.

Cigarette Butts

 

Cigarette butts are now my fascination

it’s the irreversible effect,

life then death

a bit like torture

it goes on, then it goes out

but it cannot be forgotten

the change is irreversible.

I like the way they are pushed, shoved,

squashed into little holes

forced into awkward positions

forgotten about straight away.

 

Cigarette butts are now my fascination

it’s the irreversible effect,

light on, light out

like a light to heaven glowing

crying out to be seen

but no

its used and abused

like one train of thought,

choked on daily

sucking the life out of it.

I like the way the foot drags

upon the stone floor

putting the butt out with no, no effort

like torture it goes on, then it goes out

but it cannot be forgotten.

Broken Doll

 

My life was so delicate

a single, well-thrown stone broke it,

now my life is desecrated

parts scattered around, some missing,

my life now a broken doll

and now the strings of evil control it.

 

My life was an antique

but an old, heartless thief stole it,

now I face the mirror

my limp limbs and frail skin,

reflecting in the light

my impurities uncovered,

now they control me.

I’m a broken doll

a muse,

a toy to use,

break,

blame.

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