By Niall Finucane


I am a ghost in this place now.
And all pass me by or tear right through.
Yet this is of my own creation.
Better unseen, yes this I knew,
Than tossed and turned, a lonely boat at sea,
By the tempest of scorn that rages and spits
From their displeasure at one another.
On the billowing fringes, I would wish to be free.
And so I stand watching and waiting.
Removed from it all by stubborn ignorance.
But alas this veil of protection shall not last
And the storm below is not abating.



Niall Finucane is a twenty year old student. His two passions are writing short stories and music production but he also enjoys writing poetry from time to time.