writing poetry (Remove filter)
Brave
My mother calls me brave, so I am brave.
She takes me to the bus stop on the first day of school and I am scared. She smiles and lets me go, so I smile and go. I am brave.
She sits me down and tells me we are moving. My father will be gone a while, and I will have to make new friends. She tells me not to be sad, so I stop crying. I am brave.
I want to dye my hair blue. I...
Thursday 5th January 2017 9:39 pm
Recent Comments
Stephen Gospage on Decades
3 hours ago
Alexandra Parapadakis on Drifting
5 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on G.E.N.O.C.I.D.E (Spelling It Out) updated & with audio
11 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Letter From The Southern Ocean
13 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Blake Morrison sends protest poem to newspaper’s letters page
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Home Secretary is a Barrel-Maker and her Boss is a Tool
14 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Home Secretary is a Barrel-Maker and her Boss is a Tool
1 day ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on The Home Secretary is a Barrel-Maker and her Boss is a Tool
1 day ago
John Coopey on BREAD AND MUCKY FAT
1 day ago
kJ Walker on BREAD AND MUCKY FAT
1 day ago