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nmallaghan

United Kingdom

Teenager who loves to write and hopes maybe others will love what I write too.

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

Peace

FREE WRITING

There is a peace I find in the
way that someone close to me
emotionally
breaths softly, just audible over
whatever else is happening in the room.

There is a peace I find in the
way that they tap their pen or
laugh into themselves in an attempt
not to be seen or heard by others
and yet I catch them in that moment.

There is a peace I find in the
way I can sit with someone and
read...

Seeking Peer Reviews

3 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

Peace

FREE WRITING

There is a peace I find in the
way that someone close to me
emotionally
breaths softly, just audible over
whatever else is happening in the room.

There is a peace I find in the
way that they tap their pen or
laugh into themselves in an attempt
not to be seen or heard by others
and yet I catch them in that moment.

There is a peace I find in the
way I can sit with someone and
read...

Seeking Peer Reviews

3 days ago

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2

nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

Ability and Mind Experiment

PROMPT: Novel Writing Competition


I lay in bed contemplating what had happened in the gym. Naomi had been gone a long time. My thoughts were halted as the door opened and Naomi stumbled through. Neither of us spoke. I sat up in my bed but I didn’t move to help her. She looked injured, more so than when she left the gym; there was blood dripping from her lips, she was bruised and scratched in many places and she seemed to be nursing a...
Seeking Peer Reviews

12 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

Development

PROMPT: The Art of Specificity

She seemed uninterested in our conversation.

Her replies were short and revealed little about her thoughts but I could tell from the awkwardness of her tone that he wanted the conversation to end.

She wasn't willing to expand on any of her answers even when I divulged more into the conversation. Each word was spoken with a sigh and a glance behind me or to the clock, which seemed to interest her to no end as if the hands were...

Seeking Peer Reviews

20 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) liked Old Man by Maggie Mills (United States)

20 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

On the Last Day of the World

PROMPT: On the Last Day of the World

If the world were really coming to an end,
To all my loved ones, honest messages I would send.
 

Seeking Peer Reviews

20 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) liked Turning Darkness into Light by RockSugar98 (Singapore)

20 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

I wear darkness like a blanket

FREE WRITING

We sat in the dark room - the air around us thick.
Sadness clogging my throat while awkwardness
mists around my friend.
I showed her the thin white lines that run across my hips like
vines trapping me in myself. She spoke to me about
all her family secrets. We argued about whether
friendship can really last forever.
We disagreed.
And I was so glad that the 3am moonlight did not
break through the curtains to show my stained face...

Seeking Peer Reviews

25 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) published:

"But why can't the good things stay?"

FREE WRITING

"You can't hold onto everything forever."
She said with a sigh;
not because she was sad but because
she thought it was obvious.
"But why can't the good things stay?"
And that's when I realised that
friends don't stay by your side,
that job is for your husband or wife.
And even though I lover her in every aspect
of everything -
when she washed her hands with odd vigor,
when she rants to me about her gossip,
when she...

Seeking Peer Reviews

26 days ago

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nmallaghan (United Kingdom) started following Shannon Seidel (United States)

27 days ago

Published Work

Peace

There is a peace I find in the
way that someone close to me
emotionally
breaths softly, just audible over
whatever else is happening in the room.

There is a peace I find in the
way that they tap their pen or
laugh into themselves in an attempt
not to be seen or heard by others
and yet I catch them in that moment.

There is a peace I find in the
way I can sit with someone and
read or listen to music or simply
exist and yet that moment means more
than other superficial moments.

Let me exist with you as
I watch your face contort in
happiness
irritation
confusion:
I want to be there for it all.
 

Peace

There is a peace I find in the
way that someone close to me
emotionally
breaths softly, just audible over
whatever else is happening in the room.

There is a peace I find in the
way that they tap their pen or
laugh into themselves in an attempt
not to be seen or heard by others
and yet I catch them in that moment.

There is a peace I find in the
way I can sit with someone and
read or listen to music or simply
exist and yet that moment means more
than other superficial moments.

Let me exist with you as
I watch your face contort in
happiness
irritation
confusion:
I want to me there for it all.
 

Novel Writing Competition

Ability and Mind Experiment


I lay in bed contemplating what had happened in the gym. Naomi had been gone a long time. My thoughts were halted as the door opened and Naomi stumbled through. Neither of us spoke. I sat up in my bed but I didn’t move to help her. She looked injured, more so than when she left the gym; there was blood dripping from her lips, she was bruised and scratched in many places and she seemed to be nursing a damaged hand. The look on her face was not one that I recognised on her. She looked defeated, in the entirety of its definition.
“Naomi I-” She shushed me. After I recovered from the initial shock I tried again. “Naomi, what happened?” But again she shushed me. “Look do you need any help?”
Her head whipped around to me so fast I almost thought she had broken her neck. “Help?” She spat. “An hour ago I could have used some...

The Art of Specificity

Development

She seemed uninterested in our conversation.

Her replies were short and revealed little about her thoughts but I could tell from the awkwardness of her tone that he wanted the conversation to end.

She wasn't willing to expand on any of her answers even when I divulged more into the conversation. Each word was spoken with a sigh and a glance behind me or to the clock, which seemed to interest her to no end as if the hands were wands casting spells for her entertainment.

On the Last Day of the World

On the Last Day of the World

If the world were really coming to an end,
To all my loved ones, honest messages I would send.
 

I wear darkness like a blanket

We sat in the dark room - the air around us thick.
Sadness clogging my throat while awkwardness
mists around my friend.
I showed her the thin white lines that run across my hips like
vines trapping me in myself. She spoke to me about
all her family secrets. We argued about whether
friendship can really last forever.
We disagreed.
And I was so glad that the 3am moonlight did not
break through the curtains to show my stained face as I
tried not to let a whimper fall from my lips.
I feel like that night may have changed everything and I
don't know how I will be able to handle it -
the only solutions coming to mind are ones that would be
significantly frowned upon by others.
So I hide in the darkness of my room, whether it's 3am or 3pm but
I do not cry.
I will not spill any more tears because she would never...

"But why can't the good things stay?"

"You can't hold onto everything forever."
She said with a sigh;
not because she was sad but because
she thought it was obvious.
"But why can't the good things stay?"
And that's when I realised that
friends don't stay by your side,
that job is for your husband or wife.
And even though I lover her in every aspect
of everything -
when she washed her hands with odd vigor,
when she rants to me about her gossip,
when she sits with me in silence -
she will never love me back,
so I stare at the ceiling and try to
clear the lump in my throat as the
darkness of the room hides my silent tear
that stains my burning cheek.

The End of All Things


My job as Death has never been an entirely happy one; but it is one of the most beautiful and repulsing jobs in the universe. In that moment where the light fades from a person’s eyes and their last breath ghosts past their lips, no one is truer to their body than right there. When someone is dying they can become the truest version of themselves, you get to see them in their rawest form – this is where the contrast comes in. Everyone seems to revert to one of three natural forms: love, fear and anger.
A person who lets love overcome every emotion will blossom and it is so beautifully sad to see all the good it can bring to the world. Families reunite. The dying comfort the living and make sure that they are prepared for a life without them. Fear is so natural that it seems to be the truest form of humanity. I always hope...

Future Goodbyes

One day, I will disappear into the recesses of your mind -
I hope in all your memories I am not sad, but kind.
By one way or another I will be forced to leave your life,
But whether I leave by chance or by strife,
I do not know.
You'll forget that I was ever even a part of you,
But, oh God, I will never forget all that we've been through.
To you it may mean nothing at all,
To me it will be my hardest fall
To date.
I just hope that one day, you'll hear a song,
And the feeling in your stomach will tell you something's wrong.
You'll see my face in the back of your mind,
And maybe, just maybe, you'll hope that I was able to find
Happiness.
 

Long Walks and Coffee Shops

I like to go out for long walks,
not necessarily to clear my head but just to
be away from 'it all'.
Those two words sum up a cacophony of
thoughts and feelings but when I'm out
in the darkness of distant lights
they almost seem like nothing at all.

On a Monday I will go out of my way to
go to the coffee shop, which isn't too close to my house,
just because I like the guy who serves me,
and I know he works on a Monday.
That may seem very weird of me but
he's nice and he smiles at me and sometimes
he stutters over the word marshmallows which
makes us both giggle.

I then walk though the streets, some that are busy
but others that are deserted and hollow.
My hot chocolate keeps my hands warm but there is still
a chill that creeps down my spine as I walk through
an empty street...

My Milky Way

So many things really get on my nerves:
housework, disrespecting my boundaries and film 'critics'.
So many things really get me down:
unsaid words, cancelled plans and...pretty much everything else.
So many things get me worried:
school, hobbies and, quite a lot of the time, friends.
But recently I've found myself in company that not only
encourages me to be happy in myself but also
makes me happy by just being there -
whether we're at a massive party or just
lounging about listening to music,
these people make me feel like I mean something more in the world
than simply someone who feels obliged to be alive.
I'm finally living for this feeling of being with or near them and
even when we're apart,
seeing their face on my phone screen can make me grin
so wide that I look like I should be locked up somewhere.

Now sometimes they don't understand me, because I guess
I'm a hard...

Whistle

There's something about the aura of
a deserted car park at midnight, the only sounds being
the wind flying past the buildings and over leaves
and the dull, but consistent, buzzing of overhead lights.
I can't tell whether it's the loneliness of this night air or
my elated mood or my drowning thoughts that have now come
surging back to the surface, but
I start to whistle.
I whistle lowly to the tune of my favourite slow song
and it seems to become part of the existing melody of
wind and buzzing and general emptiness.
As the tune floats through the hollow space of the night air
I shove my hands in my pockets and
push my shoulders up - to keep warm.
The bitterness bites at my exposed skin but it feels soothing
in a sense, because everything in this moment is
cold and dark and hollow and alone and
it helps me to forget all the chaos,
and...

Keep Climbing

There was once a girl who fell so far, she thought that she would never stop. The wind rushing past her falling figure and the whispers of rain and leaves and light running through her hair; it all felt sort of soothing. But this calm only distracted her from the darkening of the walls around her. Slowly the light faded: from the surroundings, from the sky, from her eyes. But it wasn't until she reached the bottom of the never ending pit did she finally realise what she had lost. Her bones were broken, her vision useless in the oblivion of the pit and her spirit faded. She had felt so light and breathless for so long that now her bones felt too heavy to hold up.
She beat the ground with her fist until it was bruised and bloody, punching until she could not physically lift her fist another time. Then she went to scream but found that her...

An Odd Night

What an odd night:
my brother is at the out of hours doctor,
a boy two years younger is trying to make a move
and my best friend and her crush have organised my formal date.
I am worried,
I am bewildered
and I am anxiously happy.
What an odd night indeed.
 

Today, I took a break from my sadness

Today, I took a break from my sadness.
I don't know how or why or for how long
but what I do know is that for one blessed day,
there was a dreary weight lifted off my bones and I flew.
I realised it as I walked through the school corridor,
an ordinary day, in an ordinary school, doing ordinary things,
but this ordinary was truly magnificent.
I realised it while I was being pushed along with the crowd,
after the last bell of the second last day of the week,
talking with a group of my friends and laughing.
I realised it when I turned around for a moment
and made eye contact with a boy who made my stomach flutter
as he sent me a small wave and a shy smile.
I realised it when a boy, my friend,
who I thought might never be normal around me again,
decided that he could go out of his way...

Forest of the Eyes

So much sadness 
In such beautiful eyes.
Who hurt you like that?
Who filled you with those tears?
They're like a waterfall in
An untouched forest,
An unknown force of nature,
Until someone stomped on your leaves
And chopped down your trees.

What would you define as 'home'?

I did a survey yesterday. It consisted of three questions: what makes you happy; what makes you sad and; what to do define as 'home'? These questions are certainly simpler than I had anticipated, which was a great relief - a day of school had made me tired. But when you really think into them, when you think past the rehearsed answers that everyone seems to have per-prepared in their heads as if from birth, you get to all the things that you don't really feel comfortable talking about. All those whispers in your head that are 'too embarrassing', 'too cheesy', 'too needy'. We're taught that showing emotion is a flaw of the human existence when in reality, that is what makes us so human; so... us.
My immediate thought when I read 'home' was: house, family, bed. But the more I let my mind wander, the more truth came through my previously clouded vision. My house is not necessarily...

I want to Run Away


I want to run away. Maybe not forever, maybe only for a night, but what a magnificent night that would be. I want to be away from all of…this. Maybe I would go alone or maybe I would call up my best friends and ask them to come with me.

I want it to be at night. Slipping out from the confines of this house just as everyone goes to bed. I want to meet my friends at the bottom of the street, surrounded by hushed excited whispers and the cold darkness of a sleepy world.

I want to go to a beach. Not one that is close to a road, but one of those ones you have to have through hills to get to. I want it to be away from everyone and everything. We can be as loud or as bouncy or as anything as we want.

I want to explore. Running through the sand dunes during the...

Writing Small

Connected

Somewhere in that whisper of a first breath she took to say her first words to me the first atom of her being transferred to mine, and from then I knew that I needed to feel many more of her breaths, words and atoms all around me all the time.

Forest of the Eyes

So much sadness 
In such beautiful eyes.
Who hurt you like that?
Who put those tears in your eyes?
They're like a waterfall in
An untouched forest,
An unknown force of nature,
Until someone stomped on your leaves
And chopped down your trees.

A House Not a Home

There was no time. Everything seemed to be falling in around him. The wind beat ferociously against the window, the chattering of the glass against the screaming of the rain across it made it seem as though the walls were going to cave in around him at any moment. This house was so isolated, as he had been for quite some time as well, and yet he felt as though a million voices were shouting at him; telling him to get out and never return.
This house had been his shelter for so long but it had transformed with him. It had gone from a home to a cage; a cage of which he needed to break free. The house was a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he still had to lose, although he did not have much left – mentally or materially. He was a shell of the man he had been before. Colin McGregor,...

Smoke breaks

The back of my throat
Burns from all the smoke that passed
From your lungs to mine.
Whether the smoke passed through clear mid-morning air;
Travelling through the shouts and laughs of others.
Or whether the smoke sifted through
The night air, heavy with
Darkness, words spoken and those left 
silent.
This burning is a sensation different from
The itching of angry words trying to escape,
The discomfort of repressing the sobs that build;
And yet it is just as painful, 
And just as addictive.

Travel to those Happy Places

As we lay in bed at night, attempting to fall into a much needed slumber; or as we sit on the bus watching the people flash past behind the glass of the rain-soaked window; we fall into little worlds of our own design. Sometimes we ponder pointless perplexities like 'how much would the sea weigh if it were solid?' or sometimes we think about what work we have to do whenever we get home, but sometimes we fall into the comfort of our Happy Places.
These places largely exist solely in our minds, but they are a welcome escape from the turmoil of Life. We can completely design moments of our own making, sculpt them to fit our fancies. Sometimes Happy Places are memories but quite a lot of the time they are possible futures of our own making - personal havens that are not shared with anyone else. 
It is strange to think of how different these Happy Places...

A bulb in the lonely room of Life

There is a bulb in my room, hanging down from a solitary cable. The wires can be seen protruding from underneath it, or above it, which ever way you look I suppose.
I used to think of my heart as the bulb, hanging in the cavity of I.
I believed that the room was my body, containing all that I needed to be myself. I thought that someday, long forgotten in the misty days of lost, someone had switched on my the bulb of my heart, but left too quickly to remember to turn it off.
So on it stayed, my light continued to pour onto anyone who would gaze through my window. I loved even when I lost, poured happiness into those who felt only sorrow.
But then came the days where my bulb grew dimmer. I tried to keep it lit for as long as I could, but even those on the outside were beginning to grow tired...

Man's Best Friend

The stories of Roger, my caretaker, had been passed down in my family for 6 generations. It all began when he was only 147; he adopted my great great great grandfather Spot and his wife Lizzie. They had been abandoned in an old warehouse by their previous caretaker, left to starve. Roger had found them while he was out exploring. I’ve been told Roger’s the best explorer in the world! He brought my grandfather to the Unending Puddle of Ireland and he walked along the Giant’s bridge with my father. Sadly, Roger was a little too old for exploring now though. 
He used to be able to run faster than the fastest dog and climb higher than any other caretaker would ever dare! I once saw him climbing up onto the roof of our home to get a frisbee down! He has always been so brave and energetic but recently I ran into his room and jumped onto his bed,...

My Home in the Happiness

I'm young, choosing how to build my life,
Well I've decided where I want to build my home,
Away from the chaos and the strife,
Where worry's got me on the edge of a knife,
Somewhere I will never be truly alone:
I'm going to build my home in the happiness.
Not the superficial happiness of drugs,
Or the fake happiness of strained smiles,
My house will stand tall, I will be snug as a bug,
Able to survive sadness' tempting tug,
Here I will be safe not just for a while:
In my happy home.
My home will stand in the happiness of sunsets,
Captured by cameras and savoured by eyes,
I will live in the feeling of a best friends love,
Somewhere truth is found instead of lies.
In the late night video calls with my favourite people,
Those little breaths as I can hear them drift off to sleep,
In a place where sitting in silence eating...

That Crazy Little Thing

To some its candlelit dinners,
To some its sex,
To others its looking for frogs in a rainy forest.
It can be found in the most bizarre of situations, or the most simple of statements. It can be seen, shining like a beacon above the thunderclouds, in small actions like the brush of a thumb against a cheek or the dance of fingertips on an arm.
For some it takes days,
For some years,
For others it doesn't seem to exist at all.
Connections like these can be sudden and unsought for, but often they occur from a simple greeting or meeting of eyes. Entirely unintentional, this  shimmering links between souls, but it does come even in the lack of faith.
Some believe too much,
Some believe too little,
For some they have no idea what to think.
Perhaps this is because they have never experienced the tingling feeling, when you look into that certain persons eyes, and you can...

Be Your Own Garden


It was a cold Sunday morning in December, the snow from the night previous had settled on the grass, so far undisturbed. The only light that shone onto it was that of the streetlamps; not even the stars were bright enough to find their reflections on its surface. As I walked along the path, I watched the sky hoping to catch a glimpse of something out there in the darkness before the sun rose and I would be forced to face up to my daily responsibilities.
The only sound I had heard through the park so far was the light wind that spun through the crisp air, and the light tread of my feet through the ice. That was, until the soft weeping sobs shifted through the air towards me. They were only slight but in the silence of a winter morning they were as loud as sirens.
As I rounded the corner into an open area of the forest,...

The Screaming Psychosis


The world did not end in a bang, or a whisper. But rather, one scream at a time.
It started off as one or two rare cases of the disease per year worldwide, not very common, not something to worry about. When it grew to at least twenty each year and it was beginning to creep into the news, it was christened The Screaming Psychosis. By the time there were over one hundred reported cases each year, it was all over the news. It became a worldwide struggle as no one could postpone it, no one could ease the pain, no one could stop it. The strangest thing about it wasn’t the crying blood or even the endless screams of the poor victims, but the fact that another case didn’t appear until the last person had died of it. As doctors began realising this and as desperation set in, they began trying to keep people alive for as long as...

Dusty Floors


Every night, like clockwork, they would start. It usually started off as mumbling disagreements – I could barely hear them through the dusty floorboards of my bedroom; but it still kept me awake. Every nerve in my body was preparing for the inevitable as my heart jumped into my throat. The mumbling would soon escalate to full-scale screaming matches. The dust on my floor would move and rise gently as the voices escalated. My mother was quieter but shriller, my father was louder and angrier – these are the things you notice after the first few months. I used to weep as they fought, barely listening to the words as the screams echoes through the house. My sobs muddled up the sentences, as if I were listening to them from the bottom of a pool. Sometimes I wished that I were at the bottom of a pool. I no longer cry, I have almost become numb, and yet I still...

Locked in the Castle

Up in her tall tower
The princess sits and sighs
She thinks of all the people,
All the promises and all the lies,
All the men who promised to free her
But were too afraid to try.
And all those who spoke of beauty
Who found her ugly when she cried.
She wept over all the lost lovers
Who had come to free her
But ran once they saw the truth,
Once they saw her utter torture;
So she was left to rot in her tall tower
Surrounded by the moat of guilt
As she blamed herself entirely
For the walls around her built.

 

Masks of Words

"Goodbye"
Eyes burn
Throat tightens
Hands shake

"Are you ok?"
Smile stretches
Fists clench
Speech wavers

"I'm fine"
Chest heaves
Tears threaten
Smile hurts
 

A letter to someone I wronged

Apologies can be seen as
Empty, hollow things,
Full of egotism and naivety -
But please see this one as more.
The metaphorical blood pours from my lips
It dribbles slowly down my
Quivering chin as I
Beat myself black and blue
For what I have done to you.
My tired eyes have seen too much sorrow
And I would never wish another person,
An acquaintance,
A confidente,
A friend,
That sorrow that flows from my
Eyes that have lost their shine.
I apologise to you
And for the time I have taken
So selfishly
From you.
 

Is it Love?

I, myself, have never experienced love. The non-existence of it makes me worry as doubt is cast over my brain like a stranger's shadow. As a child of divorce, I wonder if two people can ever truly love one another. Or do they just settle down and have a family because that is what they have been told to do?
I am told that one day I will find love, but does it really exist? Is there this amazing, weightless feeling in your heart when you are around that certain someone? Is there that crushing, destroying sensation when something happens to the person you love?  I want to know how it can be identified. I don't want all the wishy-washy 'you'll know when its right' crap; I want a checklist that I can go through so that I know if I am experiencing love.
And then the media, and the movies, and the cynicists, say that no - love does...

Half-night

The sky was too many colours to count. It was a darkening blue of the half night. It was 'shepherd's delight' pink. It was a sunset orange which seemed to blend with the brick red houses. But everything was blending and contrasting at the same time. My music blended with the car exhausts, my quick pace contrasted with an old lady's slow hobble. There was a sadness surrounding the air as if me not smiling at this lady might cause the world to end, but I didn't, because my thoughts were deafening and by the time I had realised, it was too late.

Words vs Actions

"Goodbye"
Eyes burn
Throat tightens
Hands shake

"Are you ok?"
Smile stretches
Fists clench
Speech wavers 

"I'm fine"
Chest heaves 
Tears threaten
Smile hurts

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition

Honey Bees

She has a hive of bees
All buzzing in her head,
The noise never ceases,
Her tired cells seem almost dead.
They get angrier by the day,
The buzzing only getting louder,
She can't get them to stop
Even when she screams bloody murder.
When their stingers finally come out
And pierce her skull in turns
The buzzing starts to dwindle
But now her brain burns.
The day the buzzing stops
She falls to the cold hard ground,
Clinging to her head and wailing
Until finally she is found.
But they are too late to save her,
Not with their machines or their money,
As she breathes her last breath,
And from her empty eyes drips honey.

WILD

The wild, unruly boy and me

His hair was unruly and wild,
Much like his cheeky personality.
A glint in his eye, like a child,
He could either be ferocious or mild,
My love for him wasn't a simple nicety.

He ran wild with the dogs,
Howling to the moon locked in the sky.
He could sprint through the bogs,
Or throw about the heavy, splintering logs,
But he never would tell a lie.

His wildness would be his downfall,
But for now he was happy.
Around the forest he would call,
Write a poem in a scrawl,
And he would always stay with me.

Together we will always be,
The wild, unruly boy and me.
With hearts as old as the trees,
The wild, unruly boy and me.
 

Beyond Reason

Unanswerable questions

If God really loves us
Then why must we bleed?
Who decided that yellow
represented happiness?
Why are we filled with envy
Instead of pride?
Why do we seek superheroes
When we already have activists?
 

No One Cares

I say too much
I cannot contain
The words that
Want to flow
But after I wish
I could
Because no one cares
And in the end
It hurts too much
To try and make them
 

Emotions

When I am angry
The earth quakes below me
And I can't be controlled
Just like the wind and the sea.

When I am sad
Storms brew in my eyes
And the lightning bolts strike
Like the marks on my thighs.

When I am happy
The sun glows from my face
And so much energy I produce
That against Usain Bolt I could win a race.

My emotions are not mediocre
They raise me up and tear me apart
They don't make me weak
They make me into art.
 

Broken Wings

My wings are broken
They are tattered and torn
And I can no longer fly. 

I have fought too many battles
Lost many with myself
But there are plenty more to come.

I will survive though
I will fight and fight
Until the end.

My wings are broken
They are tattered and torn
And I can't help but cry.

The pain of my feathers falling
Bloody to the ground
Never to heal.

I feel as though 
My suffering doesn't end 
But I hope that it will.

My wings are broken
They are tattered and torn
And I fear I may die.

I can barely hold myself up
And yet I continue 
I keep on fighting.

The battles rage on 
Unending and constant
Until no more can be done.

My wings are broken
They are tattered and torn
As my last fighting breath leaves my chest
My souls now rests in the sky.

Hallucinations

I thought fear was
when I could hear fingers
tapping at my window
behind the shield of the curtain
in the middle of the night.

But when I found out that
it was really just the fire works
I felt more fear than before
because I assumed
that I was losing my mind.

I thought terror was
seeing a dark figure
following me through
the shadowy streets
devoid of light and safety.

But when I realised that
there was never anything there
and any time I turned around
I was alone,
was more terrifying than ever.

I thought pain was
slicing open my hand
on the blunt knife
that we used to cut up vegetables
on scout camp.

But then I found that
the pain of a broken heart
is so much worse than
anything I could ever physically
experience.

So
my question is:
am I losing my mind?
Is it real?
Is any of it real?
 

One Who Cannot Feel

Terrible is one
Who cannot feel.
Whether it is from choice,
After pain, or hurt, or loss,
Or whether they just
Don't -
As though it is as simple a matter
As breathing.
 

Save your soul

When did you decide
that the fire had gone out in your soul
and the stars had left emptiness in your eyes?

What made you think 
that the bird songs no longer sang through you
and the sands of time had left you withered and weary?

It makes me sad to think
that when you look into your glowing eyes 
all you see is what you have lost.

I can't bare it to think
that you wish your beautiful and fantastic brain 
would be disrupted by a single bullet.

Because when I see you
I wish that I could be just like you
and I wish you realised 
that you should want to be like you too.
 

There's this boy

There's this boy
Who reminds me of a book.

Sadly,
It's not a happy book.

He is so tragically sad,
So beautifully depressed,
That he doesn't know what to do.

There's this boy
Who reminds me of a book.

Unfortunately
There is no happy ending.

He is so rebellious,
So brave and scared,
That he can't handle the world.

There's this boy
Who reminds me of myself.

And terribly,
It is so.

Fast Thoughts

I lay here wide awake
and think of days past
and days to come.

I worry for my sanity
as the thoughts speed by
filling my head with a buzz,

an uncontrollable buzz
of worthlessness and despair
and the killer of hope.

My friends, the reservoir and I

An adventure; that's what we needed. Not something massive and life-changing, but just something exciting and nice. Perhaps something that will be long forgotten within days, or perhaps something that will stay warm within our cold minds - perhaps both or something completely different.
As we approached the empty bus shelter the winter sun had already begun to set, warning us upon the night. The stone wall was cold under my pocket-cosy hands and tough against my bruised knees, but we threw ourselves up and over it anyway. An adventure is meant to hurt a bit, I suppose, if you are to find the best destination.
Water, which had been clinging to the long grass since the last shower, was now finding a home in my shoes, but I raced on, stumbling and sprinting through the towering verdure until my breath came out in misty puffs before me and me friend's knees were covered in nettle stings.
A short walk...

Novel Writing Competition

Ability and Mind Experiment




I woke up with a start only to then be blinded by a bright white light. I sat up and blinked away the light to be greeted just by more white walls. “Great I’ve died and heaven looks like an asylum.” My voice was weak, obviously dying must affect normal functions, you know apart from breathing and my heart beating.
“I’m pretty sure we’re not dead.” I leapt back towards the closest wall at the sound of another voice. Sitting in the other corner of the room was a very tired looking boy. He had deep black hair that was sticking up everywhere, matching the bags under his bright blue eyes, brighter than I’ve ever seen; they seemed to look straight into me. He raised his left hand and half-heartedly saluted me with a weak smile forming on his pink lips.
 He was wearing a set of white pyjamas that looked almost clinical. I looked down to find myself wearing...

Perspective

A large man stood tall,
Suit all freshly steamed,
As a small boy stood beside him,
And simply laughed and beamed.

The large man's face was stern,
He showed no signs of joy,
But the small boy was radiant,
Like a child with a new toy.

They were both being interviewed
By the same bespectacled man,
Who looked wondrously between them,
Before he even began.

He asked them the same question,
Not a stutter did you hear,
As the interviewer asked,
"Today, what has brought you here?"

The large man straightened up,
He fixed his hair and tie,
Preparing to answer the question,
Looking straight into the interviewers eye.

He said, "I have been told,
By people at my job,
That you wanted to know,
What success is according to me, Mr Bob."

"To me it is the business I run,
And the money I make,
I love my work,
No matter what from me it takes."

The interviewer then...

Diary of a Sad Man

No one deserves sadness - it's like a disease. I beg and beg for the sadness to leave, but then I wonder who I would be without it. It has been my companion for so many years, I fear that when I lose it, there will be an emptiness, instead of happiness. Perhaps I will never divorce my sadness, this seemingly life-long companion who clings onto my very being so tightly. It seems that the only way to leave behind the sadness is by death itself. But then again, death is an ultimatum of which no one can refuse.

Be whatever you want

I sit on my bed
And wonder aloud,
Why are there so many visions
Society tries to shroud?

What does it matter,
The size of my thighs?
What is the problem,
With the colour of my eyes?

Why is there a perfect size?
And who decides what it is?
Why does it matter whether
Someone is trans of cis.

The colour of your skin
Shouldn't signify your worth,
A human is a human,
From Moscow to Perth.

Whatever a person is,
Society contradicts.
For being yourself and different
Shouldn't cause so many conflicts.
 

Rewilding

Silhouesea

Silhouesea - when the sun is nearly completely set, the top of the sky is black but it gradually becomes a sort of sea-green at the bottom. All the surrounding trees, buildings etc. are silhouetted perfectly and all is peaceful. 

Earthly lessons

The trees taught me to stand strong and proud, no matter how I feel inside.
The stars taught me to shine bright and beautiful, no matter who is watching.
The sea taught me to be uncontrollable and unpredictable, no matter what people say.
The flowers taught me to live and persevere, no matter how dull the light may be.

7 Cubed

Always something better to do

"Depends."
"Depends on what Liam?"
"How many people actually notice me when I walk down the street; how many people actually smile back whenever I smile first; how many people try to help me."
"No one wants you to die Liam."
"Maybe no one wants it, but no one would care that much if it happened, now would they? Most people only care about themselves, their loved ones, money - even you are only here because my  lazy parents pay for my therapy. I am alone in this world, no matter how many times you say my name sympathetically, no matter who tells me they care, it only matters if you actually help and everyone has something better to be doing than saving me."

Questionable Universe

Why are eyes given to those who do not use them wisely?
Why are ears given to those who do not listen carefully?
Why are mouths given to those who cannot hold their tongues?
And why are good lives given to those who destroy others?

It's incredulous and horrible 
The way the world is cruel and uncaring,
The way people can walk past another on the street 
And not acknowledge their existence as a human.

It is so unforgivable and disgusting
The way the world is twisted and despicable,
The way people can speak to their own kin
With such sharpness of the tongue.

Everyone deserves respect,
No matter their biology or mentality,
No matter their colour or condition,
No matter their beliefs or views,
Everyone has the right to life 
And no one has the right to destroy another's.

Bright and Beautiful with only a few storms

Love as if the world is going to end,
Live as though any day could be your last,
Work even when you can't continue,
And be aware of the looks you cast.

Speak wisely and with thought,
Care for everyone even if they do not,
Appreciate everything you have in your life,
Do not let good relationships rot.

I could go on all day about life,
And most still wouldn't listen,
Because no matter what I say,
Most will stick to their own vision.

But do make sure that you live,
Do not let life pass you by,
Because in years to come,
You want your memories to be like the sky,

Bright and beautiful with only a few storms.

 

Twenty-Six Sentences

Stranger's Safe Haven

Another dark grey cloud rolled across the gloomy sky. But at the side of the road, there sat a young boy possessing the widest grin imaginable. Cars rushed past him, the wind making his hair fly up in all directions. "Don't go to close to the edge of the pavement," his mother had said, "a car might accidentally hit your legs." Even though he sat on the curb, he did tuck in his feet just to be certain. Five business men and three dog-walkers sped past behind him, their eyes boring into the back of this young boys head. Grinning he stayed throughout. He had every right to be grinning. In the past he would have sat here, fighting back tears as he convinced himself not to step out. Jumping back, he would run away to protect himself from his thoughts. Kindly, an old lady stopped him one day and asked him, "Young man, whatever is the matter?" Masterfully he...

10 Second Essays

Upside down

1. I tell you that I would die for you, but in my world that means nothing.
2. Be yourself in the way they want you to.
3. Pretty is becoming more of a definition.
4. Life can only be amazing if you make it that way.
5. Helping yourself is sometimes more important than helping others.
6. The space in between your laughs can be as much of a killer as lonely nights.

Summer's end

Can we stay together in the freshness
of summer's end?
Right now, there are no
problems that we have to mend,
We are completely weightless
in the sunset's calming bliss.
Yet we are awaiting
September's harshest kiss.
No classroom can equate
the feeling summer brings,
And the sandy beaches seem like a dream
whenever September rings.
So lie with me in the freshness
of summer's end,
We will live forever in the
memories that summer sends.

Running


Short breaths filled the air. Twigs and earth crunched under his feet. He ran. He ran until he felt like his head was going to explode and his feet were going to fall off. His breaths misted into the cold winter air, swirling up past the trees into the black night sky. Panic had overcome his mind, adrenaline had taken over his body, he couldn’t focus or think or breathe – breathing was hard. He had just seen his parents getting shot in the head before the men turned to him and he ran, leaving his parents in pools of their own scarlet blood on the tiled floors of a once white and pristine kitchen.
He needed to be quiet, find somewhere to hide, so that he didn’t end up like his parents. He dived into the dirt, hiding himself in the bushes. Panic had been defeated by something else now, fear. Fear for his life, fear that this was...

The voices lie

He had an irrational fear that no one seemed to understand. A fear that crippled him day-in day-out. A fear so strong that he could never get it to be quiet. He was afraid of happiness.
You might say ' but happiness is great, it makes you happy!' Although he loved to feel happy, this boy dreads to come down after bliss; because there's always a come down.
No matter how bright he shines, no matter how blissful his happiness is, there's a voice in the back of his mind whispering. It tells him that no matter how happy he is, the depression is still there.
His fear crippled him so much that it began to manipulate his happiness. It turned his joy into a feeling of worthlessness. When he got his exam results, he could not focus on the A's, but on that one B.
Then the voices began to tell him that the only thing that would make...

'Never'

They met for a moment,
A flickering forever,
A moment that would live, 
In the regrets of 'never'.

Love with the mind

Your beauty is not defined 
by what is on your skin,
the real source of beauty
comes from what lies within.
Stretch marks and small scars
do not take away from your mind,
and who cares about spots
when you are humble and kind.
You will never be too fat or too thin,
too small or too big,
because life is too short
to care about another's wig.
Beauty cannot be defined or understood, 
for humans come in every shape, size and variety,
so people should love you for your entirety.
 

Whispering words

The whispering words that echo louder and louder in my head until I can't breath. They surround my every move like binding ropes or serpents constricting their prey. And with no one to help, I am left to battle myself alone and afraid. The angry adults and pressuring peers break down my weak defences further and I continue to suffer in silence. A silence filled with the whispering words and endless mantras: Die Die! Die!

Midnight thoughts

A moment, a flicker,
Be calm and don't bicker,
For this life with pass you by,
Full of regrets as you sigh,
"Where did the days go?
Who would ever know 
That life is not forever
Not now and not ever, 
But if you fill your days
In the most amazing of ways,
Forever is not what you need
As long as you lead the fullest life you can lead."

10 Second Essays

Upside down

1. I tell you that I would die for you, but in my world that means nothing.
2. Be yourself in the way they want you to.
3. Pretty is becoming more of a definition.
 

Flash Fiction Competition

Behind closed doors

Bang! And then silence. Everything began to slow down. I watched the sheepish smile on my friend's face fall into a painful grimace as his shirt became stained red. My head spun, but I was frozen to the floor, with shock and fear, was I next? I watched Adam's knees thud against the cold marble tiles. We had not meant to meddle, but surely a simple hack wasn't important.  No scream came from my throat, but my whole being exploded as the heavy doors of the government office closed, and I saw was Adam's hurt expression drenched in blood.

One Sentence Story

Cages inside

Your world looked so bright but it was just cages inside, but you were eventually found out - so therefore, you will be known as the man who sought glory and found shame.

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29 Likes from Others

Peace

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