Page 15 - Everyone a Writer Anthology 2021

Chrysalis

Forced to crawl away,
Burrowing, creeping,
Seeking sanctuary;
Seclusion.

Cocooned beyond reach;
Enveloped in isolation.
The chrysalis formed;
Enforced retreat.

Distant and solitary,
Wrapped and secure.

Cracks in the chrysalis
And we tentatively unfurl
Away from security.
Womb like comfort:
Over. Doubts

Delicate tendrils For a world that has stopped, my brain has never
Reaching, been so active. I feel distanced but trapped. How is
Hoping. that possible? I sleep in everyday, yet I’m still

Outside is raw: drained. But is sleep ever enough if it’s your soul that
Unknown, is tired? Before everything, I used to seek a knight. I
Unfamiliar. wanted someone else to protect me and fight my
own personal battles. The more I am alone, the more
Let me hibernate once more. I realise that I have to fight for myself. I finally came
to the realisation that it’s not the knight I seek, it’s
Mrs Hills the sword they grasp in their hand.
Meadowhead
Every day is the same. Wake up, eat, school, repeat. I
get a little variation at the weekend, so it’s not all
bad. I replace a big screen for a smaller one.
Sometimes I feel like a jack in the box. Enclosed in a
confined space for a while, then let out, only to be
locked back in again. My life ruled by the one in
charge, my life transformed into a children’s toy. Is
my life owned by other people? Are they forcing me
into a pattern? How do I break it?

The simple things in life begin to feel like a chore.
Like getting dressed in the morning. Why get dressed
if I’m not going to see anyone? Sometimes I scroll
through my phone and see people being productive
with their time. I know I only see a snippet into their
perfect world, but It doesn’t make me any less
discontent with myself. But when I try and imitate
this, why does it always feel like I’m on borrowed
time?

Anyone imprisoned in one space for months on end
would have their doubts, right?

Madeleine Rollings, Y9
Meadowhead

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