the bottom of the rollercoaster

I’ve often heard the phrase, life is like a rollercoaster

full of ups and downs, plummeting to the ground

finding yourself on a high again

so many moments in my life have I felt flat, empty, sad and forlorn

like a bird without a pair of wings, unable to soar

sat on the ground, watching everybody else fly

whilst I just wallow, and sink, sad and alone with my broken wings

someone but nobody, crying for my freedom in the sky


I can’t, and I never could, soar into the blue sky

move vertically on up, I could look but never reach

the sky in which I was meant to live

and my broken wings were like forever stuck, reminders

of my inability to fly, there but damaged

leaving me stuck, sitting, sad and irreparable


I never understood my difference

nor why I could never simply soar

I never understood why I had to be the bird with broken wings

or why I was forever sinking in a sadness, inexplainable to me


other people around me, I could see their smiles

and I could see how true, and genuine their lips were

when they curled up into an horizontal floating moon

a curly crescent, I wasn’t allowed this, a crescent moon

upon my sad and forlorn, flat and sinking lips


all I was allowed was an empty hollow hole

reminding me of an empty cup which needed to be filled

to the top with pleasant, soothing, bubbly sensations

but I was never allowed this, why, because I didn’t know how

to fill the cup to the brim, I did not know how to obtain

a drink for my hollow cup, nor how to obtain

a simple drink, it just felt like it was unobtainable to me


maybe sometime, sometime, the cup was fill to the brim

I can’t remember, maybe it was full, and it drained, left me

floating hollow, nothing within, no drink to make me smile

or feel a bubbling within, emptied, empty

nothing to echo, on outwards to the world

no bubbling energy, telling people that I was happy

no happiness for others to see, just a sad and drained girl


you see, people simply failed her

they left her feelings to themselves, a lot of the time

she didn’t even understand how she was feeling

and still, sometimes now, if somebody asks me

how I am feeling, my reply will sometimes be

I don’t know, I am not sure, confused about how I felt

confused about how I sometimes now feel


like a cup who had been drained and left emptied

no words to speak, she couldn’t speak from out of the cup

there was nothing to give to others

she was like a hole in the ground

left emptied and dried out


there should have been a tree planted in her mind

a tree started off as a seed which grew and blossomed from within

beautiful feelings were missing and all there was, was simply pain

I never felt anything beautiful inside of my mind

no beautiful leaves or growing colours, just an aching grey

which never turned a shade brighter


when I was young I thought that maybe It was normal to

feel this hole, aching from within, maybe others felt this way

but I realised, in the back of my mind, how much I was hurting inside

I never wanted to face that which was hurting me

what caused me pain, and I felt numb, most of the time

no tears could I form, 

it was as if, I wasn’t even alive


I never felt full of life, like a strong and blossoming tree

 I simply felt emptied out, empty from within

 as if there was a wilting flower Inside of me

never to live again, and I ached to feel alive

but It was unobtainable, unachievable


I never felt alive when I went to concerts

the music around me was so full of energy

but I felt nothing, no bubbling buzz

or excitable feelings, nothing

like I was unable to feel anything normal

everyone else looked excited whilst I stood there, inside, crying

because I knew I should have felt

and this caused me so much pain


unable to experience the buzz from a musical concert

unable to feel fun when I was on holiday

unable to feel anything which resembled normality

I was wrong, and this was wrong, it was all so wrong

In so many ways, and so many times

so many experiences, this would occur, time and time again

why wasn’t I experiencing fun, why could I not enjoy anything

why was I different, why did I not feel alive


unable to feel alive, the flower inside of me was wilting

not alive, and I never understood why something nice could not form

inside of me, and why I felt like an ugly worthless weed

an emptiness which I couldn’t even explain to myself

I felt like a weed and an ugly one, a wilting flower, which had no life

feeling nothing, not the norm


I spent a lot of time hurting because I was unable to feel

 anything resembling a sense of normality

I felt like I was a weird kid, someone with a weird mind

surely this was not how others felt, maybe this was normal

maybe feeling this way was normal but it wasn’t

I knew it was wrong, and that I was wrong inside

there was nothing I could do


 I guess the flower needed some loving seeds

where were they, the seeds which were meant to make me blossom and grow

into a normal girl, the mountain of love directed towards me, from around me

for some reason it seemed to be missing, and so did the self-love

It wasn’t there, and I truly felt like I hated myself

inferior, worthless nobody, who never even mattered, not even to myself, to my parents


i guess I was the lifeless flower, unable to grow back

come alive, come to life, why couldn’t I feel more alive

why was I always wilting inside,  unable to feel excited?

unable to feel joy, emptied out, like a cup which had been emptied


I couldn’t’ experience, not living no, I wasn’t living

and I certainly never soared on up, Into the sky

never able to build my broken wings or speed on up to the top

of that exhilarating rollercoaster, and just stay

never to fall back down, crazily to the floor


I was just a broken bird, an emptied cup

living on the ground floor of a lift

the start of the rollercoaster, bored out of my mind

sitting, waiting, always waiting for a rise to occur

never feeling a soar towards the sky

just sitting at the bottom of the rollercoaster, bored out of my mind

sitting still so much of the time, never moving forwards or on up

always painfully aching to reach the top and stay

but it never happened


 I was at the starting line, and  I wasn’t experiencing anything

 no highs, a sad and empty ache of a bird who wanted to fly, just that bit higher

but she was unable to, her wings were broken

so, she just sat on the pavement, looking at the other birds fly

wandering why she had to be different, accepting her place in the world