This was the first 'proper' poem I've ever written. I suppose this piece reflects my experience of secondary school.
You watch, numbly;
As blackened finger grasps for white sky,
And wonder, dimly;
when that horizon will be in your grasp.
Hardened, you pass through grey arteries,
Your echoing step vibrating through the ghosts
Of a thousand strangers.
But even the coolest flame can melt glass.
And suddenly, you jolt from that dull routine,
To find yourself shattered into a million pieces,
Flickering against the resistance you thought you had.
Even as that thought tries to choke you,
Believing the glass soldier is no more,
Hot sand, lofty dunes,
Thick blanket on a rainy day,
Sharp pencil on soft paper.
One by one, these memories make a ladder.
Two by two, your feet drag themselves to the next step.
Your ancestor’s cheers pound in your ears,
Because inside that broken glass,
Is your core of steel.
Shrugging off the weight on your shoulders,
You grasp that azure sword,
One more time.
You slice through six years of struggles,
To see the mountains on the edge of tomorrow.
And finally, you drop your sword,
Letting your golden laughter,
Ignite your beginning.