#13

I ache in this putrid classroom,
Full of pressures and wild dreams,
Half escaped in the space above our heads,
Half recaptured by the awakening dreamers, of
A lost kind.

There only one kid of true romance,
With clings of innocence, wrenched from our grasp,
But we never held it there, Really....truly,
It leaves our hands like water,
Becomes tainted, we crush and cower.

The sniggers in the back row,
Slowly begin to spoil my half cooked fantasies,
Take the knife from the kitchen,
Mark an X on the page. In my dreams,
But now to the ever lasting reality.

Lazily I show more than I intend,
While their eyes follow,
And I hope for a small smile,]
Intruding on my lips,
Parting ways in which my heart becomes displayed,
Crushed, beaten to a thousand pieces,
Will you count them?

I rest my head slowly lulled by the sounds,
Of fake words, drifting through cotten doors,
Enetering my mind, tearing me,
Turning me, tell me to hide,
And you will never see my face again.
Frustration becomes a part of me.