Imagine In the depths of the mind is a place far away, no way to get there, no place to stay. Sat down on a flower beneath the willow tree are the children of the wizard who cannot be seen. But in the depths of my mind is a place none wish to call home, where monsters and demons are running, only their shadows being shown. But the monsters and demons may terrify some, but for me they are a source of creativity and fun. Where ever your dream world may be, there is no difference between you and me. The monsters, demons and wizards are exactly the same, our characters in our fun little game For the imagination is a great place to be, because there's a way everyone can see what we dream.

Perfection In the race against time, to get back to reality, I stop and question my own sanity. Am I mentally healthy or am I insane? Am I a real person or just a character in your games? The theme song plays and I make my first jump, I fall short of my end goal, that's the end of my run. But in my head I feel happy, not afraid, and in my head I don't ever get played. Deep down I know this is not a place I can stay, But in my bed, asleep and dreaming I lay. The bell tolls from my bedside table, As I make my way to sane from unstable, Living in my own world, with no objections, That is what I would call perfection.

Emotion Drowning in sorrow, wallowing in pain, are two of the few things that can't be changed. And whilst in storybook endings they all live happily ever after, did you never wonder why it was all fun and laughter? People 'round here though, feel like me, happy, sad, depressed and everything in between. But why? I don't know. Why don't we ask Google? Because whenever we feel worried or ill that's all we seem to use now. Search up the symptoms of #life-threatening conditions, and then panic cause you've searched something your brain told you you shouldn't. So what's next? Ok, Google, help me figure out why I feel things human. Well guess what, that's one to figure out ourselves, rather than when you feel embarrassed contemplating throwing yourself down stairwells. I don't mean to be insensitive, what I'm trying to say is that there's always a way rather than physically hurting yourself with your fingernails. And trust me, I know that it hurts, even though you probably won't believe me seeing as I'm "only a girl." But when I felt embarrassed or upset the closest thing to me would dig into my flesh. They say laughter is the best medicine, yeah I laugh but not that often. So I guess that I'd be dead if I was ill. Apparantly positivity cures #life-threatening conditions, but what about babies who don't know what positivity is yet? But seeing a smile can bring joy or pain, depending on your personality that day. You can either become a happy person, or the green-eyed monster living inside of you. But be careful not to be caught because society won't accept you if you're not overjoyed. So don't get sent to the factory, where they insert your battery and imclude only one emotion in your programming, happy. So rest in peace, normal person. You will be remembered. But now all we see is the way society "repaired" you. To make you the living stereotype of their "perfect citizen." Nobody's perfect, but society doesn't accept that. Now we promise to water thedlowers on your grave, and continue to ignore the citizens society created.

Feral Child With wild in her eyes, is a wild at heart, No places to stay, no places to start, But when the#moonawakens and the sky falls asleep, Our young wild will never need a key. Blackness in her eyes, blackness in her soul, Galloping around like a horse's foal, People will look and people will stare, But our young wild will never care. Running through the night, feeling alive, She will be having the time of her #life, But the sky awakens and the sun rises up, And our young wild knows that her time is up. The hunt begins, no time to lose, Our young wild is running from you, But the guns will rise and the bullets fly out, And our little wild cries out. Her time was not used very wisely, But the hunt was here and it would not end nicely, Some people will cheer and some will cry, Remembering our little wild as she died. But our little wild was more than wild, our little wild was a feral child.