Addicted To The Pen
The writer.
An individual who is truly able to see
the beauty of the world we live in
The mind of the writer is different
It sees everything
Sees what makes up everything.
But the only way to express such beauty is through the words that come flowing out of our heads
The words that come flowing in bright neon’s, in dull greys or without a colour at all
They splatter on the page and we shape them with our pens.
Writers; addicts.
We are addicted to our pens.
And will we ever stop
Will we ever stop writing
Can we
The answer is no
We can’t stop.
The words, the thoughts in our fragile heads must escape
And we must let them, must help them express what we think
The writer, the addict
Showing the world the beauty only we see,
The light or the dark hidden in our world,
The beauty, the fire, the ice
We see it all.
And as a result, we are addicted
Addicted to the pen
Alright
The roar of the storm crashes and keeps me awake
I shut my eyes and will it to stop.
Among the calm I can hear my sisters faint breathing against me,
I’m the oldest, her rock, her shelter. I hold her close afraid of the day that I’ll be gone.
When she will have only herself and the cracks in the walls to keep her company.
The roar gets louder I’m lost in the sound.
A symphony of crashing trees the creaks of the attic make me cuddle closer to the thinner figure.
The fear of leaving this shelter and battling the rain and thunder.
But suddenly the light through the cracks in the blinds.
The storm has ended. I feel safe.
My umbrella against the storm stirs and wakes.
I am alright
Hope
I see a black page with white paint dripping
The big words ‘no hope’ so gripping,
I never knew what hope was until it was slipping
Slipping out of my grip
The Hope in humanity gone
The people in power so twisted and wrong,
Companies killing the earth all along
People murdering, another life gone
Hope. What is hope
Is it how we’ve learnt to cope
In a world where we’re all stuck on a tight rope
I can’t cope, without hope.
But how can I find hope when I can’t cope
I’m falling, falling down a slippery slope
Rock of Life
Love is the rock of life.
Binds all kind big small slim and broad.
Love is the joy in life but it can stab your hearth like a knife.
From that first kiss in the park to the candle lit dinner with your first love in sight.
Love is a powerful source when used correctly can provide the miracle of life.
But when used wrong is a tool to cause agony.
Love revivals who a person really is you can’t hide from it.
Love will seep through the cracks in you and revival every little detail about your personality like never before.
Love is special to every person who has ever experienced its presence.
Because to be honest love can lift any soul.
The Secret
I have a secret
A secret that has brought me the most sadness I’ve ever felt
A secret that ate me up for years on end
A secret that drove me to the end of the earth
A secret that no one knows only the few I trust the most
A secret that makes me feel a part of something
A secret that has given me life
A secret that has brought me the most joy I’ve ever felt
A secret that makes me
Wondering
There on the grass she lies
With tears like raindrops falling from her eyes.
Why he did it she’ll never understand
She did everything for him, his every command.
I love you he said
Those words swarm inside her head.
Did he ever love me
Who knows, maybe.
Women
Women don’t feel safe
When men are in their face
Hiding all day
Won’t keep them away
During the day women pray to see the next day
I Am
I am me. You are you.
I am cold and nerves and tears band worth.
I am sleepless nights and lonely fights and climbs to simple but impossible heights.
I am scars. I am forgotten as the sun forgets of the drops of yesterdays rain.
Of last nights tears.
You are of fire and warmth and goals and worth.
You are a fiery mind and a cold, shut blind and values that break your back as your teeth grind
I am me. You are you.
I am cold. You are warm.
I ask that this never ends
Can we be friends
The Firepit
Gazing into the amber flames
We laugh underneath the blanket of stars
The conversation shifts
Of how “those” people are myths
They don’t understand!
They’re too young to know!
But as I listen to these friends of mine jest
A thorny bush rises in my chest
For what I once loved about myself
Was tearing me up from the inside out
The comfort of the starry night
Is the anchor that stops me from crying out in spite
If love is love,
How is the topic of the one I love up for a fight
Perfection
Perfection is not possible,
Or at least that’s what they say,
Then tell me why I strive for it
Almost every day.
They tell me it’s not possible,
To soar above the trees,
So how can I climb them
So everyone can see
The Bully
When I was small, at the age of six
A big kid took to hurting me
He beat me, called me names, profanities
the teachers didn’t care.
I told them I was beat, again and again.
It took changing schools to stop it
But I met that bully later, at age fifteen
He was alone, no one around him
I hesitated, but sat
And asked how they’d been.
Adolescence
Treated like kids but have expectations of adults
The confusing lives of adolescence
CAN’T do that CAN’T go there because “your only a child”
but also u must get a job as you’re “practically an adult”
The pressures from peers the words circling your head like a time bomb
The confusing lives of adolescence
Days Blend
Days blend together life doesn’t feel the same,
I can’t help feel like school is to blame.
Constant pressure to know what to be,
How I wish they’d just see.
We’re all slowly shrinking into people were not,
Becoming drained, not feeling real, and seeming like bots.
We used to be happier, what happened to us
Maybe they should change what is focused on in school, so that there is no fuss.
Same thing Different day
7.30, an alarming call
Fear and dread, endless excuses
Eye bags as dark as the winter sky
After dragging out every ounce of motivation in me to pull myself out of bed to go into the place i despise the most
Hate is a strong word, but i hate this place.
The only reason i force myself to school is to see those who have stood by me through it all
Stomach aches caused by laughter
School isn’t great but it would be a lot worse if i didn’t have those whom i consider sisters
Fun And Games
Plenty of people have said to me
How great it is to be a teen
The fun the games and all the craic
This is all true but I must say that
We are all much more than all of this
All being subjected to a life of bliss
We have a voice we should be heard
Anything else should be a blur
Expectations
They expect you to be strong
They expect you to be tough
But not too aggressive and not too rough
Tackle like this and shoot like that
If you don’t make county you may pack your bags
When you put on that jersey you put your life on the line
If your not quick enough you’ve committed a crime
We’re playing for our club we’re playing for pride
But if you’re not talented enough your left to the side
I love my club and would do everything for it But if the coaches don’t give me a chance how do I show it?
School
At school I am one person
While at home I am another
I feel like I am living a lie
And I don’t know which one is real
Or which one is me
I guess only time will tell
At school I am the bright child
Good grades and being mature
While at home the grades mean nothing
That is until a bad one reaches home
At school I am looked on for my answers
As if I know anything more than the next sensible person
At home I am lazy but also a ‘know it all’
Well I guess that is one thing that is the same at both school and home
Life
What’s Life
Is it amazing or strife
Bright like the sun or are we just a crumb
To this universe or it a curse
Who knows
when will we grow
What does life behold
No one has been told
Shut Up
I’ll slap you with a fish you big fat witch
You have a fat trap go take a damn nap
Your so annoying do you ever stop
Just shut up!
I Want To
School too cold
I don’t want to go
We keep getting told to open windows
Our government should be sold
I want to go home
Uninspired
I want to go home
I can’t write a poem
School makes me want to die
I don’t know Pi
I’m always so tired
Never feeling inspired