What I found really ironic
Was that my head teacher stood up in front of us and said
“I know what you’re thinking and why you’re thinking it;
Because you’re teenagers and therefore you think you know everything.”

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
The conversations
Between constellations
And the persistence
Of my selfish existence
And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That every day I question
What colours we choose for crying
And what I gain from lying
And the age at which it became OK to play pretend games again
Or whether we even ever gave them up.

And I wonder if he ‘knows’
That what he’s said is ironic
Or if he really thinks he made a good point.

Stick me together with plasticine
Fill in the cracks of my broken dreams
Stitch my skin tighter and sow my heart shut
Let my hair loose and my nails uncut
Glue my eyes open and stretch out my frown
Dress up my fear in an ebony gown
Sketch in my strings and take hold of the thread
Wrap me in cling film, then leave me for dead.