Our Future, Our Present

Location

To whomever this may concern,
Can you guess how smart we are?
Do you know what our rank is?
Our GPA?
Does this great nation care,
For the well being of a human
Or the torment of our minds.

Through the halls of long silence
And breaking bells,
The sounds of marching shoes,
A plastered smiled to blend
Safely into the walls.
Silent towers built of college posters,
School events,
Sometimes the occasional outburst,
Of the average rebellious teen.

We are the top, the bright,
The good, the example,
The ever persistent volunteer,
And ever continuously studious.
We are your hopes and dreams.

We are dying.
Of heartbreak, of fear.
We are Atlas,
And the world is heavy.
We are screams in the night,
A pill on the counter,
A knife from the kitchen,
A gun from the closet.

How lost are we in these halls,
Colored green, orange, and red.

To whomever this may concern,
May we live until tomorrow.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741