One last look at the adorable scene in the delivery room The Golden Hour Baby snuggled at mothers chest, father kneeling beside them Adoring and in love with the new life created The doula waves her hand Sends her love their way And opens the door Steps out into the hallway The bright light blending her sight She passes the midwives, the doctors and staff Heads down the elevator, passes the cafeteria filled with chattering people Nears the exit of the hospital Passes the children's and youth's emergency department An old grey-haired man standing against a wall Shouting, crying, nothing there to comfort him But his wife An old lady herself, patting his back Nothing there to take a lost life back How fine the line, between life and death Thinks the doula and drowns her thoughts with loud music in her ear. Rock bottom's where we live And still we dig these trenches To bury ourselves in them Backs breaking under tension For far too long these voices Muffled by distances It'

Fame, fame, fatal fame It can play hideous tricks on the brain Still I'd rather be famous, than righteous and holy Any day, any day, any day There is a humiliating feeling that comes from thinking you're not very smart. Tara took a look into the mirror. Her light, peach-colored skin glowed in the sunshine. Her eyes were bluer than robin's eggs. Her lips red as iron-rich blood. Her hair fair and yellow as the ripe barley on an autumn day. Am I not one of a kind? A snowflake? That day Tara decided to create a Social Media account. She shared pictures of her face and her thoughts on matters of all kinds. She received applaud, appreciation and a great deal of followers. Her thoughts were shallow, she simply repeated words previously spoken by others. There was nothing she shared that was of true value but there was nothing the world expected. The world was simply satisfied with rubbish. All those people, all those lives, where are they now? With-a loves and hates and passions j

A group of friends of all trades Rubbing each other's backs Barbecues on chilly spring evenings Talking about life and death Admiring the endless light Listening to Mumford and Sons Dancing naked in the forest Pure serenity Whiskey in a hip flask Someone takes out a guitar Someone falls in love Staying awake until it gets light again Someone needs to stay sober to get us back home All good things come to an end Shattered around the country, the world We collectively separately think of those times We all agree They were good. But it was not your fault but mine And it was your heart on the line I really fucked it up this time Didn't I, my dear?

Eamonn looked down upon his hands He had to admit - he very much disregarded, yes even detested himself After he had spoken, he started to hate every word he said, Nothing of it was pleasant and it was as if he heard himself speak rather than producing speech himself He used to consider himself rather amusing, he could recall people laughing at his humorous jokes These days he tried to be funny But nothing he said was considered hilarious in any way He might have as well remained quiet Sometimes when people started to laugh after he spoke it was rather they were laughing at him than laughing at his jests What a miserable life he lead Once there was Apple Apple loved to get high with Eamonn They'd sit around the campfire with all their friends and pass the pipe around Apple and Eamonn dreamed of poems and prayers and promises They dreamed of having four children Their names be Rosemary, Sage, Parsley and Thyme But it all came different As it is in life Things turn out different than

Time seems to be linear When I was sixteen, "Seventeen forever" was my number one song These days I can't stand listening to it Nonetheless, they were right We won't be seventeen forever Sometimes we can't return to being seventeen because we're gone And we're not there to wonder whether we could return Friends, partners, offspring, family..  There is nothing and nobody that we really own Everything and everyone is on loan There is nothing we can hold on to Only barely ourselves Life is hard Just for some it is harder than for others Some have to go through a living hell And won't get out of it While others go through smaller living hells And come out of them stronger and healthier There is nothing we can take for granted Still we are full of pretentious confidence Perhaps this being a mode of survival It laces up the throats of others What have we learned? Here and now is what matters It's really all we have Apart from the memory of being seventee

 The line between life and death is a fine line At it's best, the very start of life is wonderful Leaving everyone involved empowered and strong Paving a fruitful ground to generations to come Connecting and rejoicing Leaving room for growth and progress Changing lives forever At it's best the end of life is peaceful A long, resourceful life lived Memories to look back to with a smile Non, je ne regrette rien No, I don't regret a thing At it's worst, the very start of life is painful Suffering lasting all the way through No way out of a living hell, no way through No happily ever after But darkness that seems to never end At it's worst the end of life is agitated Broken dreams, a broken future A life taken away too early In the middle of it all All hopes vanished, a blurred vision A long and painful road to eternity Eyes remain shut The line between life and death is a very fine line And I believe in love And I know that you do too And I believe in some kind of path

Once upon a time Liesl stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains She was wonderful. Life was phenomenal and impeccable. Until it wasn't anymore. Jarl knocked on Liesl's oak-wooden door at her home in a valley one fine sunny, Sunday afternoon. He introduced himself as an interventionist god. He apologized for having to intervene in her perfect life. There was too much perfection and too much happiness. He cut her wheat before it was ripe. He trampled on her tomatoes and tore her potatoes out of the ground. Jarl cursed Liesl's land. For no reason whatsoever. Jarl peed into her well so that all her drinking-water was contaminated. It was his duty to intervene. He fried Liesl's chicken and smashed all their eggs to the ground. Once I had mountains in the palm of my hand And rivers that ran through every day I must have been mad I never knew what I had Until I threw it all away