Anyone who is familiar with my work knows that I love what I write, but it takes me a hell of a long time, so apologies for that. I felt, however, that I owed anyone who is still around some kind of an explanation. My explanation comes in the form of the first poem I've ever written, so enjoy:

"August."

Do you know how it feels, being lost in your own skin?
Well I do, it's like another you, but one you can't let in.

I've begged and I've pleaded, I've cried and I've prayed.
It seems to me though, he's maybe here to stay.

You know that voice inside your head, the one that sounds like you?
Well mine doesn't sound like me at all, though I'm not sure even I do.

I stand before the mirror, but never do I see me.
Instead, I see him; he cries, he begs, he pleads.

He looks at me, I look at him, lost in one another.
How do you tell parents with a girl, their dear Daisy has a brother?

And so now you see, I can't afford to let him in.
Instead, let me ask, do you know how it feels, being lost in your own skin?
I do, because I can never let me in.