What I’ll miss

Late caffeinated induced nights
With a gloomy morning to follow
Reminding me that with every deadline met
Two more follow

Loud crowds of people who don’t care
The people who waste time
Who try to waste my time
Intimidating and infuriating

Long bus journeys
That are too high for my budget
But three nights on my own
Would never be worth it

Are all things I will never miss
But that I needed to experience
Coming hand in hand
With all things good

Like early morning walks to the beach
With short classes that encourage group work
Lab filled days with lunch orders
And rotated coffee loyalty cards passed around

Being able to walk everywhere
But also being able to walk home
And close off the world
Without having to report to anyone

Independence
Optimistic people
Safety
Encouragement from everyone

It’s what I’ll miss when I leave
For my last time

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Immortalised Memories

One of my favourite stories growing up was one that my aunt told me.
I come from a big family of twelve(ish) aunts and uncles and uncountable extended family members. My mum is ranked as the youngest girl, and I’m her youngest.
My aunt Mary is the oldest girl in the family, with two of my uncles before her. Despite the age gap my mum would consider her one of her siblings she’s most close to.
I never got to meet my grandparents, but my favourite story of Mary’s is one she told of them when she was born.
My granddad had just had his first pint after the birth of his first daughter. Chuffed at himself, he sipped away happily and content on his own.

One of the locals came in and said to my granddad:
“Ah Brendan, I just saw your two sons on the way here”
Without batting an eye, my granddad replied:
“Yes. But have you seen my daughter?”

The way my aunt tells it just almost transports me back in time. It’s a story that I genuinely would never get tired of hearing as it brings me a feeling of closeness to the grandparents I never had the privilege of meeting.

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Wish for you

It’s funny how
I have no expectations
But my heart still stops
Only to speed up again
When I get a glimpse of you
Sparking a moment of hope
That I know will never last
No matter how long
I really want to believe it
This control over me
Is painful
So I spend my life
Wishing it away
When I really want to wish for you

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Maybe One Day

Maybe if I don’t go to sleep tonight
Tomorrow won’t come
I won’t have to think of what will happen
Despite willing what I want to happen

My fear will leave
The sun will shine
But I keep waiting
For the moments to pass

I’ll stay awake
Until I can
Staying safe
From all the things I’m thinking about

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(P.S. I accidentally published the wrong draft today lol soz email readers)

Start trying

Why do you have to discourage
From everything I do
Pulling me up
Is not weighing you down
But you still choose to do it
Take me as I am
But you only take me for granted
We think too much alike
For either of us to be left alone
One day you won’t have someone
To apologise for all your mistakes
That you don’t think you’re making
But I’m still waiting for the day you do
And the day you acknowledge me

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I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

This year, I had a clash in my timetable so I had to alter it. I had previously picked a module that links in well with my other ones. However, because I had to change it, I ended up in a pretty random class. I had never deviated away from the classes that I know how to structurally write for. All over, I thought it was hard because I had to reflect and think, rather than memorise and repeat. I really enjoyed it. It was the first time in a while that I found myself reading the assigned readings because I wanted to, rather than I had to.
This poem stuck with me. It was one of the first times I read poetry as art instead of homework. I hope you like it as much as I did.
——
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
 
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
 
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own
 
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
 
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
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