As a woman

Ive started to notice sexism in my social life. If I’m seen giving orders it’s “micromanaging” “okay mum” “controlling” where as if a man does these things he is listened to, its “teaching” or “helping”.

I allowed myself to be held by men in a way that made me feel uncomfortable but “was just friendly”, talked to and about hyper sexually as an object to be seen and touched.

As a woman I am starting to be scared at how much I can see is based on nothing but my gender, no matter how much I know about an area, there will always be a dumber, more stupid man being listened to by many more.

When I use my sexuality to my advantage, as a way to make money, and to gain confidence. It’s seen as easy, a waste.

Keep on telling myself

You love to hard

Not hard enough

No one will like you

You act too tough

Open your doors

But only a crack

If not they will swing

All the way back

And no ones ready for your demons

No ones ready for the truth

So just smile and tell a lie

There’s too many people to lose

Not ready to say goodbye



Tripping over reality

Or under it

And seeing the unseen

What we cannot observe through the naked eye

Not even with enhanced vision

Unlocking corners of our mind

Observing a collision

Between reality and something else

But what is the something else that remains unseen

And will there come a day where it can be


Fall or fly

And I fall sometimes

I fall

Or am I just flying

It feels like Im dying

Yet weightless

Every problem off my shoulder

Am I gliding? Surviving?

Or will I hit the ground in a crash

I never know how far down I’ll go

Before my wings open up again

But Im scared that one day they wont


Bonfire recipe (full version)

I tried to put all the pieces together

But they didn’t quite fit

Tried using duct tape and glue

Kept hammering nails into it

But all it did was damage the wood

Over and over again

And… I wish I could say they gave me the wrong tools

Or they gave me the wrong set and pieces

But somehow I just feel like it’s my fault

I’m just not the carpenter I thought I could be

So I’m sitting here in the rubble of disappointment

And wondering why I was never good enough to build it

And there is no more space for nails and bolts

And I have run out of duct tape

And I’ve got no more money or strength to go out and buy more

So I’m sitting here…

Burning thoughts in the flames

And pretending that I was constructing a bonfire all along

Because I was


stormy seas

I didn’t ask for these hardships

But I am glad I get to sail them

Because with every storm

Every wave

I become more brave

I learn new tricks

Not only for myself

But for all the other sailors at risk


If there is one thing that I always say, is that I am happy I have had to go through bad times because it allows me to be there for others who go through similar things. And this I will always stand by, and its something I always tell people when they come to me for help, is not to give up, because once you get through the storm, being able to help other people will brighten so many of your days, that its worth the pain of going through it.


I’m falling down the rabbit-hole

with no clue of what I’ll find.

See magic has its different ways,

and who knows which is mine?

It could be dark and full of terror,

howling all through the night.

Or it could be lovely, nice and sweet,

where everything is bright…

But then again, it could be both,

with no certainty at all.

Or it could just be emptiness,

where all I do is fall.


The rabbit-hole is an idea I find in a lot of my poetry, its a metaphor for mental-health, depression, loosing yourself. In this poem, its a question about where my journey is going, will it be like my nightmares, or my wishes… or will it always go up and down, good and bad…. or will it never go anywhere, will I be in this constant feeling of trying to find myself.