Mother Mine Months in the making: A labour Of love. A #lifetime Of commitment A bond; a noose. The lungs, the #life You gave me. The heart, the beat You drummed. The world was of your making And you would own it still. But Mother, Mine is the freedom The glory, you receive. You gave me #life Now let me blossom Don't smother, Mother, Mine.

T Thank-you doesn't seem like enough Or the word Now in the moment You might leave. Time seems too short Out of no-where days and Nights are counted down to hours Yet the hope still lingers. Tower of strength Our pillar knocked Never before seen fragile. Yearning now for courage to show support. Tears etched Over cheeks, a stream seeming Never ending Yielding no relief. Thank-you Over and over Now and forever You will always be loved.

Fulfil Shall I? Will I? Won't I? Wonder I wander I Worried I'll miss the point. Satisfy What need? A need unknown Unavoidable Unfathomable until too late. Tick Tick A list To do. But quantifiable #life Is not a #life I want. Or do I?

Blank verse Blank structureless but mess? No Lines can be delineated but it is the idea which Counts Rhythm and rhyme Hit the beat On the street But the word is still the block Upon which a foundation is built and the page is no longer Blank.

The Girl In The Mirror Hmm. I don't think you should go out in that.' Why not? I grimace and stare hard into the mirror. Yes. I knew it. I just thought, maybe, I might... 'You're kidding right? You're not really considering it? I'm just telling you what everyone else will be thinking. You know I'm right. Look at your legs. You know you're not a skirt person. And that one... Well it makes your calves look pretty big. Better to hear it now than have to suffer all the stares.' I see them now: bulbous, elephantine stumps. Oh God! How could I even think about exposing myself! No. I couldn't. It would be too much. Search the cupboard; find something else to wear. 'Yes. I think it's for the best. You know I only want you to be happy. What about those? Black hides a multitude of sins after all! It's nice and baggy so no-one will see any hint of what's beneath. And it will be comfy too. There now! That's nicer isn't it. Not risky at all.' Yes. I accept. But why do I still feel that longing? I see myself, see the girl swamped in fabric. A safety blanket. I wish, I pray... For something to change. I want to say, 'I'm beautiful.' But I can't, because all I can hear is... 'You're fat. Accept it.' (Written after watching presentation on eating disorders.)