This world wasn’t meant for the weak, but am I really that strong?
I see you in another land with a pink smile and shining eyes, but is that really you in there?
Sitting in my room with mould on the walls and a cold chill that seeps through, I’m reminded of poverty.
Yet, when I look out the window I see the highlands calling. The streams and mountains call from somewhere ancient to tell me it will be alright.
As I look at the mirror black, I see a face I barely recognise staring back;
yet there’s familiarity in those eyes and in those lips.
Undecided yet hopeful, I run outside and towards the hills.
It’s not awful to run, but the sky is so beautiful and grey today.
I wonder when you’ll find me standing by a bin in some random street waiting to touch you again.
