- 12 SEPTEMBER, 2016

Over time we lose the idea of a happy ending,
From left and right, mixed signals he is sending.
As we grow older and as we learn more,
It is clear to see that these fairy-tail stories start from the core.
The core being the very beginning of life,
Where we watched Cinderella become Prince Charming’s wife.
The thing about love is it no longer happens this way,
Feelings are hurt and yet the victim stays.
It is time to move past these made-up stories,
The only love like this is made in laboratories.
The love of today is found when we are no longer searching,
When we are shopping, hurting or even lurching.
To gain a perspective of this kind of love,
Those fairy-tail stories we must dispose of.

For a love of today means forgetting the love of yesterday.




I remember the days where looking down made people afraid,
They'd climbed the highest of highs, 
braveness is what they portrayed.
The times when people spoke face to face, not via their phones,
The times when children played on bikes and with stepping stones, 
These times have been lost yet 7 billion people still here, 
Is looking up from their screens now what they fear?
One missed call, a notification untouched, why has this become so urgent? 
Just 10 years in from these 'greatest' inventions, the world we once had is very divergent
People complain about the 21st generation but how are we really to blame?
When the generations before have now become all the same.
As we grow older and as we learn more,
Our world will never quite be what it was once before.



​​The monsters outside, the demons within,
The words her mother says can't stop her head spin.
She's lost, she's confused, doesn't know what to do,

Lucky for her, her two friends help her through.
She's different, she's changed, her mind in a game,
The devils don't stop, they're only to blame.
She feels so lonely, she feels so broken,
The words she says seem to become outspoken.
She's smiling, she's lucky, the world so amazing, 
She feels out of breath, her words are phasing.
Her friend once told her, those animals don't matter, 
Yet as they walked by, her feet would then scatter.
She couldn't take this anymore, couldn't handle the pain,
The words they exclaimed would drive her insane.
One cut, two cut, three cut, four,
The blood from her wrist dripped onto the floor.
The next morning she awoke in a hospital bed,
Her hands tied down, her mouth being fed.
Two months gone till she walked out that door,
Just to go home and cut some more.
Another month past until she went back to school,
Just to hear the name calling and get pushed till she fall.
The teachers came rushing, her mother was called,
She was hurt, she was sad, the school was appalled.
That was it, she was over, got home and ran to her room,
Lit it in flames, felt the heat, smelt the fume.
They had crossed the line and got to her head,
That was it, she was sick and now she was dead.
What what you say, watch what you do,
What has this world really come to? 
You could make someone stop breathing, take their life away,
Be the colour of blue not the colour of grey.




The raven with the long grey feather
Is a raven who must not be on tether.
The soft colour of grey,
That fades away in the day.
The soft sound of the crow,
Oh Jon Snow gives off a glow.
The raven with the long grey feather.

The raven with the long grey feather,
Classed as the best, yes no nether.
This raven is like no other,
Yet still stands as a crow, ones' blood brother.
Represents such beauty like no other before,
With two eyes, two feet and many claw.
This little grey beast has a class of gold,
No matter the condition, hot or cold.
This little grey bird stands above them all,
Talking to his friends with the raven call.
The raven with the long grey feather.

The raven with the long grey feather,
A raven who flies along Scotland's heather.
He travels the world yet knows his home, 
His heart tied up in his own world, his dome.
A bird with such beauty and one so au fait,
This bird so inspiring and a groups delegate.
The raven with the long grey feather.