Colours welcome you into the world,
A blessing we never fully perceive,
Painting landscapes of mirth and sorrow,
Separating poor and rich,
Fortunate and unfortunate.
Bleeding crimson as everything fades,
Abandoning us as all goes black,
Losing colours meaning and swallowed by dark,
You wonder if you ever knew the world at all.
Not a Phase
This is just a phase,
I know you, this isn’t you, she says.
Don’t be stupid, you’re not, he says.
But it is, this is me.
Its just your hormones, you’ll be fine is a few years,
Just wait and you will see.
But I know myself, this isn’t “just a phase”,
This is me.
Perfection, the impossible goal
Yet there is pressure and pressure and pressure
Work hard, make money, and die successful
But who’s to say money equates to success
I’m just a child
I’m not a prodigy
And I work and I work and I work, to what avail
The reward, more books, more books, and more books.
I’m stuck in this trap, set by myself
I’m not good enough
I need to achieve perfection
I’m just a child
I’m still in gestation
How do I deal with these great expectations?
I strive and I struggle to reach unattainable goals
Set by myself because I am not good enough for me
But when will it end, this endless cycle
Elusive goals make for depleted persons
I’m not perfect
I’m just a person
An All-Girls School
Where a mountain of insecurities convey,
Yet judging everybody is mandatory.
Nothing spreads faster through the school than gossip,
It’s almost like a virus – contagious.
The hatred and distancing of men is bread into our minds,
Making us wonder how we will ever communicate with the opposite species.
Enough drama to broadcast our own reality show,
Knocking the Kardashian’s from their No1 spot.
A house for a gender so powerful once united,
Yet so destructive once divided.
An all-girls school.
“Snowflakes” they call us, gen Z.
Our generation who are fragile and weak.
“Snowflakes” But our problems aren’t the same
“Snowflakes” But our life is a different game
But “snowflakes” that’s all that they see.
These are the things we are told
By people who think that they know
And yes you might be older
And your school was colder
But we feel a different woe.
The bright white light that welcomes us into this world
It’s the same as the one that lets us know it’s our time to go
But what if that white light isn’t just the end
What if the white light is always the first thing we will see
When we are born, the white light is the hospital room
Cramped in are many doctors and your loved ones who you will get to know over the years
But then we leave this world
No matter how good or bad your life is we all have the same outcome
There are many ways to go out, some people like to beat death by checking out early
Some live a full life and are content with all of their achievements
But why do we care so much when we all go out the same way
What keeps us all going every single day when our outcomes are not in our control
Why do we care so much when we all will just slip out of consciousness for the last time
What if that white light we see when we are on the verge of death is the new begging
What if that light is another life
What if we are reincarnated and that is why we cry when we are born
We come out wrinkly as babies
What if it’s us shrunk down into a baby skeleton as to say it’s our second chance at life
This white light is inevitable and what comes after is infinite different possibilities
It’s a race to death and we all ignore it as to say it isn’t a huge part of our existence
We all know we are going out whether we like it or not
So why don’t we just savour the moment and be happy for once
Growing up you are expected to look at your father as the hero in your story
As the man who can do no wrong
The first man a girl loves
You hear stories from your friends about how good their relationship is with their fathers
How their each other’s best friends
How they would be lost without each other
But growing up hearing these stories
I always wondered what happened to our story
To make it the complete opposite to what other people experience
Now I’m older and I realise that a father daughter relationship is something I just will never have
I have to learn to accept that
There was never a beginning to our story
Just an end.
The Cycle of Nothingness
Wake up at seven,
Eat your breakfast, brush your teeth,
Leave for school, make small talk on the bus,
Try to understand higher level maths.
Have lunch with your friends two metres apart,
Go home and study, to do it all again tomorrow.
That isn’t living, that’s surviving.
No excitement, we’re just black boxes on a screen.
When will the repetitive cycle end?
Constantly moving but never at peace
I feel I’m waiting for life to seize
Searching for moments I truly enjoy
Like when I was younger and played with toys
Pleasing society is getting too hard
Tryna act like something I’m not in the yard
My rose tinted glasses are starting to fog
I feel like I’m being pulled down into a bog
I envy the three
Instead i sit
In my sense of security’s debris
I’m getting past it
As time goes on
But as the night time comes closer
Well, how I wish it was dawn
I come from glancing back to make sure he’s not still behind me,
I come from keeping my head down in the streets praying he won’t make a comment,
I come from no the first time not being enough,
He calls me easy when I’m interested
He calls me fridget when I’m not
He is your son, your father, your uncle, your friend
WE need to change this
I come from a small place
A place where the air is fresh
But most importantly a place where people connect
You would be walking for days ’til the nearest shop
Climbing on roofs to hear the phone hop
Bursting tires from potholes on the road
But still a place I want to grow old
It is a place that i would stay forever
A place I want my children to be raised
A place I want to come home from work to
And a place I want to stay forever.
School is where we go everyday
To be judged, criticised and thrown away.
By teachers and students, people we don’t care about
Pressure on us, no where to let it out.
9-4, 5 days a week
An unnatural streak.
When 4 o’clock comes, here’s the end
But thats also when you leave your friend.
Then your family asks you if you’re okay
Then you think that you just have to relive the same day.
My Life is Like a Pen
It’s full of ink
Ready to write new stories
To share with the world
Make a mark on the page
I use my pen everyday
I let people borrow my pen if they forget their own
I find other ways to write my story
And often I don’t tell it all
Sometimes my pen needs a bit of a shake
If it’s been writing for a long time
It helps to get the ink flowing again
And it works perfect, like nothing is wrong
As time goes on the ink runs out
It can’t write any more stories
The pen has been used and its time is up
Pair of Eyes
We listen to loads of opinions daily
Why some of them stay stuck very deeply on our hearts?
Life is seen every second for millions and millions of eyes
Why should we give all that power to a just a pair of eyes
It’s just the teenage years
It’s not the depressing nights alone in your room
Or the thoughts of comparing yourself to others
It’s not the wondering eyes you see while walking through the corridors
Or the comments you get from your mothers
It’s not the failing school because you’ve been too stressed
And it’s not the thoughts of not wanting to go to school
Because your just too depressed
You’re supposed to live your life
But I always wondered
Why many teenagers’ lives are so difficult
And we are all wishing we were younger again
On a Farm
When living on a farm
Your best friend becomes the morning alarm
And when the sun rises on the hot may day
Your dream is to make the hay
You spend the day cutting grass
I’m learning more than what i do in class