Eastbourne
In Eastbourne, a chance to be reborn, In Eastbourne, I mourn the life I've worn.
A life where scorn pours on childlike heart, In the shadows of a world that feels
worlds apart.
Ordinary lives go on by, while I linger concealed, a ghost in my own fairy-tale,
forever unsealed.
Who are you to dictate where my spirit can soar?
Who are you to judge the breaths I explore, to silence the thoughts and feelings
you find disgraceful, In this intricate dance, my reality's faithful?
Yet here I stand, a king without his crown, a castle lost, my throne turned upside
down, castrated by the voices seeking to confine, I just can't bear this weight,
this burden of mine.
Eastbourne promises sanctuary, solace for the lost, a refuge for the weary, no
matter the cost.
But alas, my fate feels sealed, like grains in an hourglass,
watching time slip away, too fast for me to grasp.
Here at Beachy Head, where the weary souls meet,
drained and disheartened, retreating with defeat.
No longer ignored, yet feeling so trapped, incompetence echoes, a silent
mishap.
I choose to surrender, to bury my strife, in the depths of the deepest darkest
nights, to the depths of the rocky cliffs of Eastbourne Beachy Head.
I choose to either reclaim my life or to aim to end my life.
No fear of departing, for I'm already spent, it's time to embrace what this
journey has lent.
Beloved Eastbourne, your cliffs are calling my name, in the silence, I find the
peace to be free.
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