Poem 4

Glass ceiling
Showing me hope and dreams
The water pours down
There’s no crack

*tap tap tap*

No response?
What’s the point?
Wasn’t I born free?
Should I even care?

Just feel lost
For what cost?
Just to begin
And fit in?

If I scream and plead,
Will anyone hear me?
Or is that just part of the cruel box,
treated like a beggar; seen but not heard

Look back up, the glass has gotten thicker
Or is there more water…maybe both
There’s much to do
But I need to escape

Just fate to deal with now
Take a breath and look down
What’s that now?
I’m standing on glass

Poem 3

Working Title Rush:

Heart pumping

Each ball of sweat Just dripping I can’t ignore it

Who are these people Standing on the right

Don’t they realise

This is London

People have places to go. We don’t care if they can relax. That their friends want to chat, I’ve got a train to catch.

Waiting is a suckers game I want to murder on the dance floor, go grab dinner with grandma.  I’ve got a world to conquer. I haven’t been waiting all night for this fight.  I’ll be on the run having a some blue nun .

Might hazard a guess that I’m no Salah, But I ain’t no Paulinhio either,  I plan on Kane-ing after August,  I’m Onna-mah way to the top. Better watch out, Fergie ain’t got the time to save you.

Time for me to fly past. So move out the way or get blown away