So noisy, it’s crushing
Its songs; sad ones
happy ones, silly ones.
It's jokes; fallen pens,
****** texts, Durcan’s poetry.
None of these thoughts are helpful.
Not even by a little bit.
Pastel highlighters, a new pencil case
My jacket is green.
I did the bare minimum of Spanish
I organised a previous debate’s cards
My Irish notes glare at me.
My math's teacher won't give up.
I keep all of history in my head,
But not in a place I can access.
I can give you Sinn Fein manifesto
but not the sections of Mozart’s  
23rd concerto in A major.
The room is loud, but silent in  
Comparison to my argumentative mind.
Busy, so busy.
Nothing will be done.