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Is grey your favorite color? The shade of stagnation The memory of disappointment The sky on the worst of days   Grey like the colors of your heart The grey from stormy clouds
I really should begin to go.You know I didn't mean it though When I said “I won't see you”. As the clock goes farther in timeAll you do is stay on my mind.I hope for you; that's true, too. Although I know down in my coreI will start to see you mor
A crooked frame of a picture perfect familyHangs in the hallwayWith the eyes cut outTo imitate the blindness of suburbia The family dog remains in the frameTo tell the tales of an animal 
I live in the stories that I create, in the books that I read and make, the stories in my head because it is better instead. I imagine many things, many horrible things, things wonderful,
Life becomes rather monochromatic when you become very melodramatic, because your friends aren't really estatic to talk to the self fanatic, and social interation becomes problematic,
I've never really sat down to write a poem Just sat to write thoughts from my head Never really thought to write a poem Maybe I'll write one by the time I'm dead   But now I sit facing a window
   I am inadequate. (is that an SAT word?) adj. lacking the quality or quantity required; insufficient for a purpose In a world chock full of Merit Scholars, and teenage charity founders, and tech wizards,
It started with a sharp point and a pink ball on the other side. My thoughts wonder wonderously as the minute hand laps the hour hand. As my heart synced with the clicking of the clock's minutes so did my hand to my heart and mind.
I've had excellent teachers in my time. Some with good looks Some with easy tests Some with interesting lectures. But you, you're different. I should have looked you up online to see how you were.
My ship is setting sail once again amidst clouds of vikings and popes and as I'm drifting into the sea of sleep I begin to lose all hope.   Talk, talk, talk. Thats all you ever do.
Can I just leave please I'm not feeling school today Sitting for hours Staring at this wall, so bored Only three more blocks left, score
Tenure gives you no right...,
Student: Thump, tap, scratch, groan,                 Clock sounding ticking tock ticking.                 Sigh, glance, slouch, count,                 Steps and monotonous lectures.
Blame it on me, the student. All because I can't see I can't see why you teach; All you do is preach. There's never a lesson.  In one ear and out the other, is my confession.
I sit in this class, Boredom running its fingers through my hair. Teacher is talking history, Delving into some guy's affair.   Then we move on to slavery, A topic I have learned of before.
It's a Wednesday in November And I'm struggling to keep my eyes open I must look a mess My eyes are droopy And my hair is unbrushed I'll admit, I didn't try at all this morning
Clock ticking            Time slipping A droning sound A droning sound A droning sound Fallen heads With drooping ears Drooling lips Snoring noses.   A class about myths
We all stroll in to class. The bell rings. "Settle down class."  You take roll.  "Here."  You tell us we're taking notes. We all sigh in your ear. Taking notes is a drag. 
School was a blur, I wish it were more fun. First Period: I stepped in gum. squish, squash. Second Period: My brain on overload: numb. zzzt, peeeww.
What the hell is it? First, you want me to raise my hand in class Then, you want me to particapate less Now, you want me to completely shut up? What the hell is it? Please hurry up Make up your mind
School is torture This I can not be more sure The teachers like vultures Misery they ensure When the bell rings They act like kings Barking out commands That every student withstands
Mr. Forevergingerman Stares blankly at the page It’s covered in words Words Just rolling and spinning on and off the page Words everywhere Everything is words And nothing is words
The fuck do I look like? Listening to your voice rambling on and on Your stupid syllabus and grading scale  is all wrong I get graded for saying things in class? How about this: Kiss my natural black ass.
The fuck do I look like? Listening to your voice rambling on and on Your stupid syllabus and grading scale  is all wrong I get graded for saying things in class? How about this: Kiss my natural black ass.
He was immersed in the hum-drum of everyday life, his Mondays bleeding into his Tuesdays, just as it had for fifty-five years.   Protected by his shining armor of ignorance, he was untouchable.  
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