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W31rdK1ds

United Kingdom

I'm 17 and I like to pretend I can write.

Published Work

Song Writing Competition 2019

Comedown

Left you crying on the bathroom floor
Liquor, white, and lipstick on the counter
Look at you, can’t take much more
That girl you ruined, I still dream about her

So call me in the comedown
When the air feels clean in your lungs
Call me when you break down
Screaming what the hell have I done
Call me when your mind is clear, and your body’s sober
Call me when you want this to all be over 
And I’ll come over

Saw you out the other day
Clean - band t-shirt on the right way for once
You’re looking well, I have to say
Time seems better for you than I ever was

Wish we could have talked but you walked the other way
There’s not a day that I don’t wonder how you are
And how’s Tommy’s band? Is he okay?
I know this is hell for you but it’s been hard on him too

So call me...

Blu (without the E), or Why I am buying you a mirror for your next birthday.

Out of nowhere, you turn and ask me:
"What colour are my eyes?”
And naturally my first thought is “Who doesn’t know what colour their eyes are? You’ve had them your whole life, don’t you own a mirror?
Or maybe you’re just secretly a vampire and don’t have a reflection because
how does one go 22 years without noticing the colour of their own eyes?”

Before I can actually question any of this out loud, 
your glasses are on the table, and you’re pulling me closer and for a split second I wish… 
I don’t.
Instead I shake my head, part my lips to laugh, and 
obediently, I raise my eyes to meet yours.

When they do, I am rendered a silent smile; any laughter previously trying to escape stuck behind a roadblock in my throat, 
and suddenly I am a deer caught in your headlights,
your immediate intensity making me feel like the one under scrutiny, even though it...

Done.

I didn't sign up for this. 

Well, technically, I didn't sign up for any of it, but after 20 years in the business, you learn to stop questioning and just take the money. Get the job done. 

Quick, clean, impersonal. Because that’s what it is; Business. Because everyone has to make a living. Because, it’s just how the world works. And sometimes that means getting your hands dirty.

But this… This was too far. Even in matters such as these, there was a line (a rather morally ambiguous line, sure, but there was still a line) and his request didn't just cross it. His words were like a demolition blast. With every syllable, they eradicated that line and any evidence it had ever been there in the first place.

There we were, early hours of the morning, in a part of town even the rats that ran the warehouse floors would think twice before venturing into. I’d describe him for...