I hold my head in my hands and I let my thoughts chew away at my spirit
Click click click
My fingers fly on the keyboard
The work is never done
I get home from work, reeking of unappreciation
Because I am young, small, replaceable.
Verbal abuse from those “above me” penetrates my thick skin
And attaches itself to my spirit.
Flip the burger
I said no pickles
Do you understand English, stupid?
My head throbs as it struggles to expand beyond its tangible borders
I must remember everything
I sit in the underfunded music room
And let my fingers dance on the instruments
What had once stitched itself to my soul the day before
Releases its grip
But music, and art, and a free soul
Isn’t on the SAT
The Common App
There’s no need for art
I stand zombified in front of a vending machine
Searching for whatever I can eat the fastest
I need time to study
Because a test tomorrow is my self-worth for the year
I slump at my desk
Pressing coffee against my lip
The stress of yesterday still clings to my soul
But that’s not important
My eyes open to the sound of my alarm
And I want nothing more than to sink into my bed
But maybe today
I’ll be important.