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.

Cast about, like the sails of a maelstrom, Thoughtlessly crucified, Why am I here?

"I once heard a saying that went like I am become Death or something; want me to prove that statement true? No? Oh, well too late for that." -Trevor Kellmen, Schism