Newtown School, Waterford

Art by Lynn MacPherson https://jamartprints.com/artist/lynn-macpherson/

 

Withering World

See the trees and see the bees beside plastic-making factories
All the pollution in the sea is way too much for me
See the dying polar bears
Because the ice caps are not there
When the world gets too much for me
I like to sit with birds as company
To take a deep breath and pause
Is worth applause.

 

Be Different

Being different isn’t bad
Being different shouldn’t shame you
Being different should empower you
Being different makes you special
Being special makes people around you special too
Being different will be the only thing to keep you going for the rest of your life
Being different lets you be you
Being different will always be a quality not everyone has
Being different will bring you wherever you want.

 

Beauty

The grass will still be green
The sky will still be blue
And if they aren’t
It wouldn’t matter
Because there’d be a beauty in that,
Too.

 

My Place

Wind in my hair, rain on my face
I wonder if I will ever make it to that safe place
The place where I can smile for real
The place where I’m not afraid to feel.

 

I Want…

I want to run through the woods again
feel the sweat on my skin
breath fresh air
think once the world is fair
I want to laugh without stopping
like nobody was watching
and the people around me do the same
with no insecurities or shame
I want to say anything that’s on my mind
stop saying I’m fine
being honest and real
but that’s such a big deal
I want to hug somebody I love
not being for myself and tough
just do I what’s the best
and not caring about the rest.

 

Schoolday Dreaming

Sitting in the artificially lit classroom
Daydreaming of witches on brooms
Flying high in the dark skies
Hearing their laughs sound like cries
Slowly reality starts playing a part
The witches and brooms fade from mind and heart,
Pens rushing across paper
And the click of the teacher’s stapler
“Anyone have an answer to fifteen?”
I come back down to earth, away from the dream.

 

Golden Years

Teenage girl,
The so-called golden years
Even though my head is full of fears,
Worrying about who says what and who likes this
And who likes that and who likes you,
As you look in schoolbooks,
In the eyes of your so-called friends
And the mirror while shedding all those tears,
Hearing and doing the s**t talking the sl**-shaming
The pointing and the laughing,
And hearing the rumours until your heart drops
When it’s about you and it all is too clear,
When you want to feel good enough and boys and girls to be keen,
But why on earth do they have to be so mean?
You see the look on people and your own face
And start to tear you own skin like delicate lace,
You realise teenage girl,
The so-called golden years aren’t so beautiful
And crystal clear.

 

Seeking, Finding?

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
Happiness is out there somewhere.

You have to find it right?
Whenever I even tread the water,
I’m dumped straight into the deep end,
Do you know what happens there?
You sink or keep fighting.

How much can one fight?
If you are promised the idea of happiness,
You try reach it,
You use every ounce of you,
But in the end you really can only reach so far before you’re dragged back.
Whenever happiness enters your grip,
Even just for a second is it bliss?
Whenever I get a taste I suddenly get sad.

I should be happy but I’m not
Then I feel guilty about that?
It’s all b*******.

There should be an easy way out
You should be able to be happy effortlessly
It shouldn’t be a lifetime goal.

Would it be wrong if I feel happier when not happy?
I’m at an understanding,
If I get a breath of happy the fall is greater.

So if happiness is really out there,
Properly out there,
Then why can so little people reach it,
Why is it under lock and key,
Secured for only a select few to see?