after school
after the stifing
suffocation
of the lurking mist
of failure
mediocrity
teachers screaming at the top
of their lunges
most of us barely learning a thing
fading into the
patched up bleak
wall paper
misery.
I sit in the car
sweating in march
reading poetry
trying to write some
lonesomely
and I am not brilliant.
my hair is abnormally long
thick and curly
the vale is tightly wrapped tightly
around my neck
little hairs shriek, escape
for breath.
and I sweat all the more
but how I love
this plain
black
vale
in school
I am known for many things
bizarreness
humor
light weight wit
but am absolutely not
known
for what I am
what I really am
I am not known
for being dak and fallen
pitch cynicism
for being absolutely
terrified
defiantly not
being woken by my mother
to drink water before I fast
and whispering
"mother, I am scared"
I am mostly
not known
for sitting
and sweating
in cars
almost
not quite
weeping
weeping
at poetry
that isnt mine
but its alright
its only 2 pm
I have almost 13 more hours
to my bed time.
I might do something
brilliant.
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