Screens breathe like illusions I stay, I scroll, I fade,
Time leaks like code through the cracks I made.
Every second hums a hollow tune,
I chase false suns through digital moon.
Stress blooms like ink across my chest,
Hope withers quiet, lost in the mess.
Deadlines whisper, “perform, achieve,”
Yet all I crave is room to breathe.
My “devoir” ; duty, or quiet despair?
I climb a ladder that leads nowhere.
The weight of wanting tears my stare.
Still. through the glass, I meet my eyes,
A stranger built of sleepless tries.
Inside, scared of my reflection’s lies.
Anita Murgulch is a student writer at the Taipei European School with a strong interest in law, international relations, and political thought. She writes on a range of topics, from global issues and youth perspectives to culture and social questions. Alongside her writing, she has gained early exposure to legal and diplomatic environments through internships and research. She is currently developing GYPJN (Global Youth Policy & Justice Network), a youth-led initiative focused on legal literacy and global justice.
Latest posts by Anita Murgulch (see all)
- Is Originality in Art Truly Possible? - March 27, 2026
- Why do we feel understood by fictional characters? - March 23, 2026
- Is Global Governance Possible? - March 18, 2026
