When I write a different world
opens within,
You find strings hidden waiting
They bring a strange
overwhelming fright,
Deep down you realise it is the
only dandelions of communication
You slowly blow and they drift
with such uninhibited
abandonment,
That is when you truly find the
hidden cracks,
They aren't character flaws
They are the bitter words of
others,
Escape seems futile with the
constant blows,
What others lack to understand is
the fighter that is born
-for you always
