Writing Prompt

Heroin capital of the UK, Eyeroll, yeah we know - Don’t have to remind us, They made a film about it Or something. “Pretty, shitty city,” it said.

We’ve got that street where the piss-ups get featured on the TV, Lads gurning, off their faces on ecstasy, The girls are fucking freezing in tight dresses showing off tattooed chests and nipple piercings - They just want to get in on the interview, don’t matter they’re standing in the rain.

Twelve year olds in trackies Chain-smoking outside the maccies, Squaring up? Mate, you look about five, Take a seat.

But then there’s the other side, The most beautiful beaches that stretch for miles, That thing where you make energy just from the tide. Stand there, close your eyes, Dig your hands into the sand, it’s nice But bear it in mind You’ve not got up the posh end yet - Should probably look out for needles.

If you go further up you’ve got the cliffs, By all the big houses, red brick. Can keep walking, and walking and walking, Breathing in salted air. The sea can even whip at you from up here. And you grin. And it’s the best place you’ve ever been. There’s a lot wrong with it, When you walk back the other way And forget that all this even exists but Right now, this is the only place you need to be, Take in everything you can see, Be free.

needs editing but wanted to get it in to keep up a streak

Can you imagine a land where Even the smallest and unlikeliest of seeds Can sprout root in ever fertile soil And stretch out towards the stars

Where green leaves shimmer like emeralds Eternal and resilient, indifferent to time A canopy rich with life Providing shade from the unforgiving sun

Even when I am far away I cannot disentangle myself from that dream
My blood still flows with fragments of the land Where I was born, where I was cut from my mother

The back of my mind still aches in longing For the promised paradise of my forefathers The land I will inherit, the land I hope to deserve.

i come from a land of heroes and fairytales but nowadays the myths are all about the resales I’m from a bonnie place called Scotland a small village in the highlands it’s where my heart stays forever stuck in my old woolly sweater I’m not your stereotypical Scottish girl i dont wear a kilt and haggis makes me hurl I’m not from the city i think the countrysides more pretty i love walks by the Loch side i fly my flag with lots of pride I’m Scottish till the day i die my heart will always love this grey sky

When I was small About six old I started to rifle How I had no real home

I was lost Told I was leaving the city For a smaller town and a bigger house

I loved looking for a new house The whole process A new realtor friend The tours and fresh paint scent

But I was afraid of only one thing A question

What’s your hometown?

Technically I lived in the city But a year from now I will be growing up elsewhere So my hometown is not my birthwhere But just a somewhere

So do I have a hometown? Yes and no probably somewhere inbetween though

In my journal