Little Freak by Matthew 6T

Pitter pater

Pitter patter

Rain was echoing throughout the old caravan a reminder of my depressing life

Happy birthday

He says

Stands, make a wish

He says


This face

This life

Is this all I will ever be?

A freak

 No one understands me

To every on I’m just…

A freak

If I had the chances I could do so much better

But I am stuck

 With this job

Like the animals

We travel with.


I blow out the candle

Gone –  like my life.


Is this all I will ever be?

A freak?

But for now the show must go on.

little freak By Marko

           Pitter patter

As the rain bashed against the floor and it had been

A stormy night

He was carving a piece of wood that looked like a


His dad slowly comes in and says

Happy birthday he says

Make a wish he says

I have a lot of wishes to say

To look good

To not look like a freak

And get treated like a dog

But I am trapped in this life

Like an elephant we travel with.

I had sat down and closed my eyes

And blow the hot candles out

But as well I am more than a freak

But for now….. the show must go on.

The Poem of the Little Freak by Leon.



Rain hammers the poor window pains,

Our old caravan being beaten by the wind,

A miserable reminder of my life.

Wind thrashed backwards and forwards like my head.

Happy birthday he says.

Make a wish he says.

If he could go deeper.

This job,

This life,

This this face.

A wasted talent,


I want to be free,

I am more.

But my ways of life are trapped.

I’m like a lion trapped in a cage.

Is this my life?

I inhale,

Blew the candle out,

The flame gone – like my heart.

Is this it?


I am more,

Than a freak?

I have a life,

One day I will live.

I will be free.

One day.

But for now…The show must go on.

Little Freak Poem By Jessica 6L

Pitter- patter

Pitter- patter

Rain hammered down against the walls of my old rickety caravan,

A sad reminder of the life I’m living ,

The life I’m desperately trying to escape ,


Happy Birthday he says ,

Make a wish he says ,

His voice was a cup half full

That echoed through my head ,

Again ,

And Again


This face ,

This job ,

I have a talent

That no one will ever see ,

As I’m trapped  like a lion ,

I want to be free ,


I hid my despair as I blew out the candle,

The flame vanished like my chance of escaping this life ,

Will I ever be free ?


I will show them one day ,

When I make my own way in life,

And they will finally see,

That I’m more than a freak,

But for now … the show must go on .

F-Freak Poem by Jacqueline



The rain dropped down from,

The perched window side,

As the boy sat on a rickety old wooden chair.


Happy Birthday ,he says

Make a wish ,he says

But only if he knew how hard it is

This face.

This job.

This odd talent wasted.

I’m craving my freedom!

I demand to live my life!

I wish to be a human!

I value much more.

But I’m here trapped,

I’m here, here in this abyss hole,

Like the animals hurt and broken.

I snap back,

And blow out the candles.

The flame vanished.

Is this it?

Is this how I’m going to continue to live?

Is this how I’m going to be –  forever lonely?

I hope one day,

They will realize that,

I’m more than just a-a,


One day I’ll carve a path for myself as beautiful as the wooden figures I create.

But for now… the show must go on.

Little Freak By Layla



Torrents of rain banged against the windows of the caravan,

A heart-breaking,painful life I am living,

Wind dances and twirls in side of my head,

Happy birthday he says,

Make a wish he says,

If only he knew…

My face.

My job.

To show my talent.

A new sweater, perhaps…

To be one of them,

Am I so much more?

I can show them,

But can I really?

I am trapped in in this darkened life,

Like the tigers we travel with-

Caged and broken…

I inhale once more,

I blew out the candle,

The flame was extinguished like my life…

Is that it?

Will I ever change?

I’m worth so much more,

I’m not a freak!

One day i will carve my own path out,

like I do with my beautiful carvings,

But for now the show must go on…

Little Freak Poem By George



The rain stains the window as

The depression stains my life.

The wind whistled like the creaking

Of my door.


Hello son, he said

Happy birthday,he said

Make a wish,he said

If only he knew what more

I could be.


My feeling,

My face,

My job,

It was a wast of my time

And my talent.

I want to be free.

I want not to be called a freak.

I’m worth more,

I need more


I’m trapped like the elephants we travel with.


I inhale,

I blow,

Letting the candles go out like my,

Hope and pride


I’m more than a freak !!

The Forest by Evie

The muffled voice amplified. We could tell they were livid. They were fizzing with hatred and furiosity .Was this the end to our ill-fated outbreak? Our legs were paralysed. The autumn breeze dissolved into the sweltering heat of a summer’s day. I felt sick with apprehension. Had their proficient scheme worked flawlessly? We had to vanish without a trace, before we were imprisoned. The night was unilluminated. We edged towards the window and climbed out. BOOM! CRASH! The menacing hurricane was engulfing the forest. How did this all begin? A faint pinkish glow was visible along the horizon towards the north.

It had only been a few hours ago, when I was playing manhunt with my friends. The sky was a vivid turquoise and the sun beamed happily into my emerald eyes. After I wandered into the forest for a concealed hiding spot, I came across a derelict deserted school. The school was unearthly; I was petrified. It was when I stumbled over a tree root, I heard an ear-splitting shriek. The moonlight settled into the eerie dusk. Someone was in mortal peril. Suddenly I heard something – something quite different from the engines in the city that roared like wild lions. It was a voice: a spine chilling voice- a voice of breath taking ice cold venom. The glinting moon rested in the lilac sky sleepily while the stars gathered around the moon. The twinkling lights reflected into my terror-stricken eyes Swiftly, I ducked behind a tree then crawled towards the school. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl. A girl who had blonde, wispy hair that reached just below her shoulders and pale white skin. Her wrists were grazed and bruised. We had to escape! We ran through the creepy woods. We had just found an ancient cabin to hide in, when we heard the spine- tingling voice again; it sounded furious. My hopes for escaping were fading away like a candle melting. The storm was diminishing our chances of escaping by blurring our vision. Cautiously, we crept forwards through the eerie sinister forest…