Strange Relationship

*~*This epic poem was inspired by a song, a story and a film, and then if course my own stupid thoughts! The song was Dazza's fab Strange Relationship which I nicked the title and opening to, and the story was written by my good friend Eli, You and I, the film was Heavenly Creatures, and this is my adaptation of when things get too intense*~*

~ Never felt pleasure and pain like this,

something so right but it feels so terribly wrong~


Once upon a time

I used to know a truth

A simple rule in life

That I used to abide by

Something to cling to

When the path ahead clouded over

As if it ever could

This truth, be told

Is written in the Bible

And therefore God spoke these words

We must love, honour and obey God


Being the key word

This is what you have to do

So do it

Feelings flutter in the cold breeze

No-one cares for self indulgence

It is self-respect

It is reputation

That is care about most in these parts

By parts I mean the world

You cannot hide from your own destiny

No matter how ill-fated you are

Unknown disaster

Something went wrong

In my birth, somewhere

Maybe I developed it, but I like to think that I was born with it

No responsibility that way

Me, though

Me, me, me

A second-hand mistake

I don't read

I never learnt

I read the words on the page

I didn't read the page with the words

I was supposed to learn

And I don't listen

To what I never read or understood

Because it's an alien

How can you read between the lines

When there's nothing there?


When we moved across the plain

I thought we were visiting a crispbread spread

Why do people shake their heads at me?

Look at the space next to me

Instead of my face

Why not my face?

I am not disfigured

This is not my curse to bear

The house was old and smelt of dead leaves

When I realized we were moving in

Outside the snow fell

Onto the wet leaves, buried in the earth

The cold air hardened me

And the snowflakes rested on my eyelashes

Pouring water into them

Became crystal clear

That I had no friends


All about me

Had filled spaces next to them

And had read the rules to life

Of the book I had never understood

Because I am illiterate in life

And when I look up there's nothing there

So why did no-one try to help me?

Maybe because I didn't help myself

Yes, probably.

Goodwill is shared all around at Noel

Christmas passed


In new Philadelphia

Spring brought the smashing mirror


a knock at the door

my face looked back-

but hair colour- lighter; eyes- softer; height- taller;

a different me.

I know a tree, she said

That was enough for me

I followed her out into the icy streets

I left where I shouldn't have moved

And read by the fire

Exposed by naïve

I am 12 years old

I am new, friendless and have a lot to learn

This new girl, she was fascinating

She spoke like me

Yet she had a different head on.

And she spoke of trees.

This is the Sycamore tree

She'd say

This is my secret place.

I studied it: warm, firm, reliable

But covered in a disguise of snow

In late January.

The secret of secrets

Will you share it with me?

She posed

A question I could not answer

Just nodded to

As was all I knew

And so, I had a friend

Her name I don't recall

Perhaps it was Donna. Daphne. Darella.

She was a one,

I can tell you.

We spent time together


Near the tree, and sometimes apart

But we made sure it made us wear our coats.

We didn't have a lot in common

Because I had nothing to have in common with

I realized then I was odd

But she was still there.


Years moved by, graciously

By the hand of God we grew the same way

Still with different heads

And I had a chance to read

But I didn't.


I played by the Sycamore tree


She asked one late Summer of my sweet

Do you think of love?


I'd reply

And Jane Austin, and the Bronte sisters and maybe Charles Dickens

She laughed

And the leaves shook in the knowledge

Something new happened

It changed everything.

I tripped at the place of my unfounded learning

I spilt my books

The one who never had a name picked them up.

He smiled at me, and I blinked back

What kind of person was this?

Touching my hand, I flinched

His skin like ice, I had pain where my memories

Stew away

Ice burns the skin

When he touched me it was new, and left a

Red mark all over my hand

His eyes were different to hers

So was his head.

And it was like crispbread spread

All over again

She grabbed my arm

Dragged me away


She said to me, ice following me

Bother with them

They corrupt the mind, poison the soul and they steal

Steal what?

For theft is a commandment


She said. They steal from you.

We sat by the tree in autumn and I pondered

Why they stole from us

Did we steal from them?

Where is our provoke?

Our provoke,

The one of the tree replied,

Is that our bodies shine brighter than our heads

I wondered about that

I wondered what she meant


I was about to find out.

Time that God threw with his pitied hand

Made my body glisten in the winter sun

As snow fell down

They came to me

All asking questions I could but answer with the other half

This was new

This was strange

Mind games, she hissed at me, and pulled me away


Why are you so afraid? I'd asked

The sun like a yolk dipped to the ground

Her shadow frozen in the hard ground with it


She'd replied

By the tree, I remembered it well

Was where I broke the rule

Did something I shouldn't.

Did something- the opposite of the unread rules

That had been thrown in my face from day one

I'd been given friendship

And a whole lot more

And I did not thank God well.

She kissed me, by the Sycamore tree

And I pushed her away

Fighting with the dark secret

It made me cold

I wondered why it had felt nice

On my face

When it had felt wrong

In my heart?

I wondered this double meaning

As I left the land across the baby plain


Returning to the land where I'd woke up

Modern culture had spread the world

In its ironic evil

And the hardness of eyes

And the sharpness of skin

Still embed themselves onto my skin

Like fire in snow

I walk back to the Sycamore tree

Ghosts scream at me

And the snow hits my face


It dribbles down my face, to my lips

And stays there.

Oh, that I learnt to read a while ago

When she taught me to read

I never saw her again.

Not since that fateful day

When she taught me that if I could not have her

Or the other kind

Then I could have no-one

And that that had been my destiny all along

It had found me.

I have learnt to write, through my reading

About what happened, those years ago

By the tree, and the snow and the girl

Of name I can't remember

Perhaps it was Donna. Or Daphne. Or Darella.

I wonder if she felt pain when they cut the tree down

When I had been hidden in it

It was like we're a page

In our own little unread book

At times I wish I hadn't written it

Or I could erase it, or rip out, hide the past

But no

It breathes inside me everyday

And like a flower opens in the spring

I suffer in the light

That she is now a part of me

And forever will be.