just when you thought our head was as far up our ass as we could possibly stuff it…

.. an intense, almost palpable sadness that flowed from him, making it seem unlikely that the sun would ever rise again over Genoa

My advice is simply to watch. To give room to cry to shout to scream and to tear things apart or

The bells of St Paul's ring out over our little village as we rise to face another day of hard protesting. I have been a Protester ever since finishing my apprenticeship. I go wherever I am needed.

All the leaves on the trees in the Quad are leaving The very sky seems to be grieving I make a note to not stop believing in my planner and It’s Parents Evening again…

In which boy meets girl, although not in the way he would like

How your spirit achingly dreams of unashamed and uplifted flight. For you curl upon petalled wings; That Lift you heavenwards from this blackened empty and encrusted shore.

This might help a little on your road to writing.