The Snowflake Souls Give Hope

A prayer for the permanently in pain, mental illness driven insane, those crazy kids continually coping despite the Sisyphus sloping, their light growing and didn’t drain sowing seeds of hope, seeming like self masters walking tall in daily dark disasters

Refusing to be callus after every broken heart, promise and back fired trust just because they’d rather lose a thousand pounds and be fucked by nearly every friend and be thought a fool trying to be kind and cool in the hope of setting some example

Running from unending mind-bending introspective investigations of high-powered nightmare analysis, personal demons and the selfish sociopaths of manipulation and brutality trying escape their wretched reality and throttle fear at the bottom of a bottle

With snowflake souls continually shot full of holes born with the odds of a snowballs chance in hell, reading fates cards trying to hide their suicide tell, up all night searching for words of wisdom in books, film and music that might ease the suffering

Saintly sinners from which talent bloomed in abundance but were doomed to shoot, to snort, to smoke, to pop, to drink and fuck it all away with head control solutions that were just substitutions to deal with the dangerous addiction of getting high on life

Breaking down in their minimum wage retail jobs with uncontrolled sobs and wrists littered with box cutter slashed ladders beneath work shirts driven to their parents homes by disturbed duty managers or just failed suicide to be recognised as sick

Losing their faith in god and gaining faith in themselves, reciting Corinthians 13:11 and psychedelic induced mystic notions on the nature of existence to the door to door drone witness salesmen of Jehovah and Mormons who didn’t understand the insult

While the little red riding hoods were being raped by the big bad wolves but still radiated warmth after, retaining an innocence that no coercive cock could ever rob, beauty tarnished burning brighter and the thieves hearts only rotted alone, unloved

Who still tried after each suicide and each person died scared that inside they were growing dead despite what was said; who threw their shit on the table whenever they were able in case the sharing could help or be helped within the therapy of friends

As artists tried to make external their infernal internal pouring out their hearts with pen and paint and sewing pin and pluck of string tormented every second going more hair trigger demented, frustrated without something created, discovered or invented

Walking out of Doctors dejected with nothing but sedatives because they had tried every antidepressant to no avail and the counsellors all fail to help the real head cases, the CPN’s says DLA for punching themselves in the face in the waiting rooms of JSA

The drama inducing desperations trying to escape their situations in disassociations dragon chasing facing the fucked up function that tore up all the kids till they wore tourniquets or had a haze of artificial love through the sad to dream of better days,

Staggering powder puff boys infused with light, mouths shut when the scoutmasters son wept on their arm and never said that he was ones of the ones who had been done harm or only brought up the ends of family friends for emotional blackmail at twenty

Mummies and Daddies are not always the baddies we are all mad in our own separate ways but the trauma still plays and it stays palmer says it runs in the family, so sorry to be sad lover, friends, mum and dad but they’ve got those Dresden dolls bad habits

Zero confidence suicide girls prettier than the pin ups because they would never believe, couldn’t conceive of being beautiful in any eyes, thought their lovers words were comforting lies as well as the concrete fact that they are in the fantasies of guys

A feather a float on the winds of the unreal, in somewhat surreal surroundings, tiptoeing foot hold groundings, pounding their own tracks or just wandered off from the group with an absent mind or trying to find the sparkle that would fill them up

True to themselves tragically cool each one was torture scarred suffering in school, they suffered at home and for most of their life they suffered alone they suffered in silence on the other side of the phone please ring back to all help lines repeatedly full

Born in withdrawal but that doesn’t mean you fall from grace when you know it’s not about what you’ve been through but what you turn into, the light shines through the scars on your skin and out of the cracks in your mind, always putting others first

Greeting the beating laughing or bulking up to destroy punching bags before coming blows, rage was born and grows, who didn’t need to feel alone when with true friends there’s always a home, it’s better open and exposed than cut off with some part closed

I just want say I’m glad they were made in this way as the suffering had a silver line to shine, their souls are mines of infinite beauty as the years grow longer they only shine stronger, snowflakes some how alive desperately trying to survive the in the sun