My Highschool Student Center

On some of the shelves you can find pairs of shoes

Among strangely bold walls with orangish hues.

Certainly crumbs or some chips are about

Check the center coffee table. They’re there, with no doubt.

The crusty old piano will ding, dong, and dang

With the same old students playing the same old things.

A couch will have ten cushions, another will have none

And maybe you will purchase a cherry coke for fun.

Can’t study on the tables, cuz they’re far too creaky.

And it’s hard to hide food, so you have to be sneaky.

Somebody will fall and perhaps hurt their thighs

Or a cushion fight lasts until somebody dies.

Netflix is on the screen ‘till the long  day ends,

Showing Family Guy, Saw, Zootopia or Friends.

And if you ever happen to be looking or peerin’

Through the window of the office of the sailing coach, Keeran,

You can find an aquarium full of some fish,

And talk to them. I mean, if that’s that’s the kind of thing that you wish.

I know it feels crappy and gross at most times

And we say “This dump isn’t worth two dimes!”

But I’m certain that there never was a one room better

Than our international school’s very own

Student Center.

 

This poem is about: 
My community

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