Salerno Secondary School, Salthill, Co. Galway.


These hands that I hold to feel secure,
The hands that hold me down when I’m scared,
The hands that are there when I need them,
I adore these hands,
I love the hands of people I love,
I admire the warmth of this hand,
How comforting it makes me feel,
How they lead me from the darkness

When tomorrow starts without me
Although the world constantly keep spinning
Life has never nor will be equal,
to the memories of goodness did us part,
Since. you were called away by special forces like the musty waves that disappear at every splash.
So selfless and considerate that the trees would sing your praises
And the thoughts that swivel around my brain indefinitely
I only dream of a chance to see you one last time-
To thank you for the everlasting joy you brought to me
Into this life of mine
I only dream of one more chance

Something i used to know

Something that I used to know was the feeling of love,
But this feeling so graciously left me on the wings of a dove,
It took the one thing that I loved away from me,
And my heart becomes more heavy everyday they are not here with me

I thought I could have them forever in my arms,
To protect me and keep me safe from harm,
I thought that they wouldn’t leave me and always be there,
And all I have is memories of the one I loved so dear


My Anxiety Does Not define me:
My anxiety does not define me,
yet when i finally open up and tell you-
you tilt your head and question-
Then you define me by it,
Your careful about what you say,
You don’t invite me to things, apparent fear of setting of MY anxiety-
I ask “why?”
You tilt you head again and-
Question my anxiety again.
High functioning anxiety- that’s what i have,
If your weren’t so busy tilting your head and questioning MY anxiety
And started questioning how i struggle and how i feel,
You wouldn’t of had to tilt your head so much, we might still be friends.
My anxiety does not define me, how i deal with people like you does.


I don’t like when people call me sensitive,
I think it’s because it’s true.
I’ve been told I’m more mature, more caring,
and that I can’t take a joke and I care too much,
In the same sentence, two different meanings,
By the same person at different times, to hurt and to help.
It upsets me that things others can forget in seconds,
Almost consumes me.
I worry that my thoughts jinx real life,
my words, written or said are always the truth,
Even though I know that’s wrong.
Sometimes I worry I am wrong,
though I feel its more than a worry, more than worrying.
I worry I am but a mutation of what others usually are,
But other times I feel perfect,
Or as perfect as someone can be.
Sometimes I like structure, but also I love to be free.
Sometimes I like being told what to do,
But I also like having the option to choose.
I think I can handle it,
And I think I will handle it better when I’m older.
When I’m older I hope it will all be fixed,
And I hope I will be fixed.
But if I’m not and if I never will be,
I think that is fine,
And I think I will be fine.

What is being a teenager

Being a teenager means a lot of things,
From grades to friendships to relationships to family, to what job will you have for the rest of your life.
Most people would say get food grades and grow up to have a husband or wife.
But life only means one thing for me.
Life is like holding the earth in your hand,
Where you make decisions such as will I buy the new shoes from that brand.
Or let’s go to the beach and get tanned.
People should live the life they feel free in,
Even if it has a spin to it.
This is what life means to me

The Rose Bearer

She carries with her a bouquet roses wherever she goes
This is who she is meant to be and the what she is meant to do.
A trail of red rose petals follow here like bloodstains
From where the thorns cut and scar her skin.
People say
Do this because your future depends on it,
Do this because it is the right thing to do,
This is what you were born to do.
But her hands are bloody and tired,
She wants nothing more than what she cannot do
She wants to leave to run from the thorns.
She only exists to be the rose bearer.

The Perfect Image

The image changes everyday,
Nothing I want is achievable,
Somedays I want to be strong, Somedays I want to be lean.
I’m indecisive,
But I know I don’t want the body I have.
Its the constant comparison,
Not to the Kendall Jenner Instagram models,
Its to the girls who I sit beside, who I pass on the street
Because we all know their bodies are real
They have to be.
Most people talk about this so openly, they joke they complain,
But I cannot.
Sometimes I feel it would be easier to stay in the body I have
But I cant just force myself to accept myself.

This place

This place is comparisons. This place is obstacles.
Obstacles like emotions, thoughts, feelings that can prevent us getting where we want or help us to achieve our goals.
This place is supposed to be for humans; yet we deny ourselves the right to have human like thoughts and expressions.
This place is merciless; this place where we get no directions, help or guides.
This place you only get to live through once. You can’t re-take it like the exams and tests and pressures we have.
This place is where we push past our limits, break through our boundaries.
This place can feel like swords stabbing and hurting you or it can feel like happiness pure and gold, lifting you off your feet into the unknown.
This place is confusing, there is so much to think about.


I keep my faith larger than my fears
And I don’t care how I appear
To others, even my own mother
All I can do is try my best
And let the rest
Fall into place
And then I’ll embrace

Tear flesh off of my skin

Begging to see the bones beneath.
They hold my secrets better than you.
Scoop out my brain and hope it contains knowledge,
Plant a tree in my skull so I can be called nurturing.
Drag my soul away and pin it down, warning those to come of your wrath.
Take my eyes and hope I stay blind to the things you do.
Take my voice from my throat and pray I do not speak ill of you.
Rip apart my nerves until I can no longer feel,
Cover me in moss till my body is gone.
Leave me behind,
Leave me to rot,
And let that be the end.


Sport gives me a sense of belonging
Everyone has a part to play
Every coach has something to say
Out on the field is where I feel most at home
Surrounded by all my team mates
They make me feel less alone
When we finally win
I feel like I’m sitting high on a golden throne
Every match we play to our best
Put all the other teams to the test
And when the whistle blows
Its time to have our fun
That’s when the show has really begun

Ripe Old Age

At the ripe age of twelve we look through the gates of secondary school expecting a beautiful safe space to let our imagination and knowledge run wild .
Little we know it was a place of limitation , strain and stress. everything changed. nothing was explained.
but instead harsh words were ingrained. and pain and ache was obtained.
I wish i would have been told what to look out for
The other generations said these are the best years of your life,
If this is the best I don’t want the rest

Days in Home

Spending the days in my room, the only place I can call home. doing who knows what, just scrolling through chrome. Some days spent aimlessly walking around, others spent lying in bed. staring at the ceiling, as the thoughts fill my head.

I scroll though Facebook. looking at what others are up to, i wonder if id like to be them, but i think; nah thats too much effort to do.

My house is not my home the only place is my room, i spend all my time in there. it is my fantasy, my world, like a castle in the air.


People do their best to make it better.
Gifts, cards, kind words.
None of it helps.
The world should completely stop.