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School

Short Story/Slam Poem

By Madisen KirbyPublished 6 years ago 2 min read
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School the place you go to just waiting for it to end. Your eyes never leaving the clock because that’s more entertaining than the blabbering teachers. The people that act as though they are your rulers and you must obey and believe everything they deed into your brain. Don’t even think about standing up for yourself because parents can be so much worse. School is like a war ground, fights, lectures, bullies, all until that clock strikes three and we can leave. The hot, crowded buses, the long car rider line, the line kids who sat forgotten at the lunch tables. Once Home the agonizing stress, anxiety, depression that comes with all those assignments that come crashing through your head at all hours of the day. But don’t even think about forgetting one, not doing one, failing one because if you even consider any of these the hell you experience at school comes to fuck up the rest of your life. You parents act as though you're a disappointment, failure, slacker when you can’t catch up with all the shit and disorders crowding your brain. They don’t see how much you are drowning, they just see a failure who can’t swim and instead of helping you. Maybe throwing you a raft they create waves. They create storms that throw you around like you are a piece of paper until you learn your place. Until you learn that you are nothing more than a grade. A number score that defines who you are and who you are going to be. If you can’t learn to swim than you get forgotten. You get left behind by all those who you thought loved you. If you slack of for even a day than you are seen as lazy, a failure who can’t get off their goddamn phone for even a minute to do your work. So you can make yourself swim and be that little puppet that everyone expects you to be or you can drown and be hated by everyone. There is no third option, there is no second chance. And once that weekend finally comes around it’s gone in an instant. When summer finally comes around it lures you into a false sense of security. Causing you to forget everything creating that hellscape every wretched year after wretched year. It doesn’t end, it doesn’t get easier, it just changes it’s looks and comes back the next year. And once you get a job you don’t get summers off, jobs never end until you are to old to live by yourself and your life is wasted away.

slam poetry
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