
Ink
It rained last night,
A vivid flow of sorrow.
A memory caught in my throat,
The strangulation of tomorrow.
The bars of my ribcage shake with screams.
If these bones shatter will I be set free?
I meditate to medicate.
When man rejects, I wave at the sea.
In this nothingness I am hidden,
Yet I finally feel seen.
I write so I don’t go blind,
I fill my page with light –
Words from the lips of someone wiser.
Ink runs through my veins.
Metaphors bleed onto the page.
These words are for me,
Because I want to see.
I burn my composure,
Unveiling my vulnerability.
Just as my pen runs out of ink.
Aoife Cunningham
Aoife writes:
I’m 19 from Galway. I began writing poetry when I was 7. My poetry is a reflection of my circumstance. I jumped off a bridge in 2018, resulting in 7 broken bones (thankfully all healed) and I’m currently in hospital being treated for Anorexia Nervosa. I spent 8 months living in a Homeless shelter prior to my admission to hospital. My aim is to help people through the power of my words.
Aoife Cunningham