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It’s raining.
As they see the exit poll.
The difference too small.

It’s raining.
As they see the late poll.
Is Poland going to fall?

It’s raining.
They look up the last poll.
They won’t sleep tonight.
Nor will they tomorrow.
They won’t breathe.
They won’t… They can’t anymore.
And it’s funny because they used to love rain, but now Nawrocki is their president.
She cannot vote
She’s just fourteen
Others decide who keeps the country afloat
Her voice unheard, her face unseen

She will turn eighteen soon
No time to snooze
Whether she is dutch or votes in June
How could you ask a teenager to choose?

She is Polish. She is Polish. I am.
You have your marches with OUR flag
But you don’t give a ****—
About us. Just go and brag.

That flag—it’s mine too.

Red and white,
Light.

But it’s the only one

Navy with yellow stars,
It’s ours.
If Nawrocki wins tomorrow, you can start digging my grave. A little bit of context: I don’t have a Polish nationality or speak Polish at home so I always felt like I didn’t belong, but yeah Poland is ours. And so is Europe <33
I wish I could quit thinking about norms,
There’s a rainbow after all storms.
The ones in our minds too I guess,
I just wish I would think about this less.

Because really, everything is unfair,
So who cares about my short hair?
And of course it’ll grow back,
Yet it forever leaves a crack.

A crack in my heart and my head,
I can’t even believe what I’ve said.
They want the hair to be long,
All I feel is just, that this is wrong.

I want the red not the blue key,
I don’t think that’s hard to see.
So it won’t be cut once again,
But will that be the rainbow or the rain?

'Cause I shall look in the mirror,
That won’t make anything clearer.
And I will feel sad looking there,
My hair will be too long to bear.

I will look at photos of me now,
I’ll probably wonder why and how.
Might say that it was a mistake,
They’ll never see if it’s true or fake.
Spoiler alert!! I did get it cut again. And then I cried, because it looks ugly.
This is love!
Fits like a glove,
You’ve always been near—
I guess I’m just filled with fear.

This is love!
It’s all of this, you are.
Might not be what I had dreamt of,
But we can just drive away in a fast car.

This is love!
My band on your hand,
Your smile fits me like a glove,
Love is you—my partner, my friend.
This is about one of my best friends; Fast car by Tracy Chapman is a song she showed me and it will forever remind me of her.
We live in a world of

Dark skies
Rays of sunshine
White lies
Adults drinking red whine

Kids with conceptions
Not being listened to
So many exceptions
Nothing to do

Imperfections
Insecurities
People and connections
Fading to obscurity

Slicing ourselves
Because we are rare
Society compels
Tempting not be there
She was just seven,
She really wanted to go to heaven,
Dreamed of being free,
Loved the idea of there being a "we".
They told her what she can’t wear,
They told her she has to put up her hair.

She was just thirteen,
Staring at glowing screen.
They told her she’ll distract the boys,
They told her she doesn’t have a choice,
At the time she didn’t realise she didn’t have a voice.

She was just fifteen,
Haunted by all the things she’d heard and seen.
Haunted by all of her thoughts,
She just didn’t yet know how to connect the dots.
And they just told her that he was being mean,
They told her that she was the one making a scene.

Now she’s twenty one,
Realised that freedom isn’t always that much fun.
She found out the game’s not fair,
They’ll always paint her with despair.
And that might be okay,
She can always just call it a day.
This caused her to believe,
That there are a lot of things she can achieve.

But she will never win,
They will always say she committed a sin.
She is doing well,
doesn’t care what the whispers tell,
even if she’ll go to hell.
Because that’s the one place they said wasn’t cool,
So maybe she’s the fool,
And heaven is the place that’s not cool.

If she knows that they’re dumb,
Why is she so numb?
She doesn’t know how to feel,
Is all of this even real?
This was the first poem I ever wrote. And I would have written it differently now, but it still has a special place in my heart because it made me realise how much making thoughts rhyme helps <3
In a world full of trees, I'm a daisy.
I don't understand trees--what they see.

Yet I whisper secrets to the trees,
Make sure that nobody sees.

Then I dream of words like falling rain,
They wash me clean, but don't end the pain.
My teacher asked us to draw ourselves as trees. There were kids who drew: trunks, branches, willows and leaves. But I drew a Daisy. Surrounded by trees.
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