St. Peter’s Community School, Passage West.


I’m a warrior
Bright and brave
About to face a foe
That is night from day
I’ve trained for years
Shedding blood and tears

But to no avail
I’ve tried and bailed
I’ve failed, died
And can’t tell the tale

I’m a warrior
Who’s name is
Lost in time
I’ve died, in my prime
Now I’m lost in time
Left in this rhyme

Internal Perspective

I like to believe that I am kind
Useless when I try and use my mind
I hope people think I’m sweet like honey
I wonder if people think I’m funny
I try and avoid hiding in my attic
And to continue to be empathic

I feel like my heart is wrapped in a cast
I hate the idea of compare and contrast
I wish I wasn’t conservative
Why is this life so negative
The validation I seek
Doesn’t make me unique
Why is humanity so weak

Your True Home

I like to believe that I am kind
And useful when I use my mind
I hope people think I’m sweet like honey
And think that I can sometimes be funny

I no longer hide away in my attic
And I’ll always continue to be empathetic
I hope you enjoyed my poem
And that one day you will fine your true home

Who am I

I am what you want to see, but not what you really see.
I am the person at the back of the room
Who says nothing but hears everything.

I am the light in a dark room,
But I can bring the shadow down on a sunny day.
I am the only one who sees the truth behind the lies,
But I can speak nothing but lies
When the truth must be spoken.

I am one who is always questioned for being alone,
But is never included by choice.
I am the life of a party,
But I can be the nail in the coffin.

What am I becoming?
Is this all that is ahead of me?
Who will save me from the pain that is life?
Who am I


Will I Ever Be Enough
Will I ever be enough or does my frizzy hair disgust you
Does the gap in my teeth distract you
My ‘lanky’ height intimidate you
Will frying my hair with a straightener
Each morning make me enough
Will smiling with my mouth shut make me enough
Will hunching my shoulders
To avoid your judging eyes make me enough

The sad reality is that I will never be enough
I will never amount to the standards that you hold,
I will always come second
To the girls with the effortlessly straight hair,
The girls with perfectly straight teeth
Skin as clear as a crystal,
My efforts to reach your standards constantly fall short,
My efforts are not enough,
I will never be enough.


I can’t write poetry
I don’t even know why I try
Because everything I come up with
Just makes me want to cry

I don’t like the way that everything I want to say
Turns, twists, changes in my mind
Forming meaningless words
Until there’s only the frustration of failure left behind


People make it seem easy living in the small town,
When you do something fun or “wrong” you look like a clown,
People think it’s easy growing up in this perfect town,
You will do absolutely anything
That takes away the look of the perfect innocent town,
You are shunned out like a clown,
You are told your young go have fun
But don’t do anything that’ll make mom frown,
How am i meant to live a life in this “perfect” town

Old Mad Soul

I am what you want to see there is no way around it
A secretive person who doesn’t say much but hears everything
Full of knowledge and power but hasn’t got the confidence to say it
The person who keeps their friends close but their enemies closer

Full of life when I want it but can just as easily sit there
As empty as a old mad soul
The life of a party but can also be the nail in a coffin.
A lot of things but I am not one to reconned with

The Gates

Standing at the school gates.
Looking at the door creaking under the moonlight.
The voice in my head telling me no.
But my actions do otherwise.
The spray can now laying empty in the Bush.
The damage has been done.
Heavy breathing covers the sound of my heart thumping.
The damage has been done,
I repeat, when I see blue flashy light coming my way.


I come from Cobh land not so far away
Still have to make that short journey everyday,
While some of my closest friends are here
Not all of them are and over here they work different,
The place I’m from is so far away from them and
They would never go there,
I have made that journey everyday
For three years and yet some wont.

Still Stuck

Was told to write a poem don’t know what to write
Because every day is different for me,
Nothing happens twice ,
If it’s my brother with another wacky idea
Of something to fill our time
Or my sister and her imagination
Making and creating new dishes for our lunch time

Was told to write a poem
I still don’t know what to write
Because my life is constantly changing
Every day and every night
I’m thinking and thinking
But nothing comes to mind

I’ve been here five minutes
Now I’m surprised I haven’t cried
Was told to write a poem I think I’ve given up
Because still nothing is coming to mind
I’ve never been this stuck

The Park

It was a beautiful day in the city park
We Heard- a chopper flying around over our heads
Then we saw more and more police cars
Coming to the entrée of the park
Soon after they organised themselves
Two minutes and then they charged
Half drunk teenagers ran in the opposite direction
A very fun chaos situation

Long Night

The long night
The dark mornings
The anxiety soaring
The tears I shed lying in my bed
“You’ll be ok” they said


I walk through the hall
Eyes are already watching
Ears are already listening
The simple look of judgement pointed our way
What could I have done to be so hated