The world isn’t meant for the weak, but am I that strong?
I see you in another land with a pink smile and shining eyes, yet is that you in there?
Sitting at home looking at the mould on the walls and feeling the cold chill that seeps through, I think of my place in society, my 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 those lips.
Undecided yet hopeful, I run outside and leg it 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.