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A Burnell Jun 2012
***
The lights are too bright
The chair is too hard
The pants are too tight
You’re being too annoying
This pen hurts my hand too much
You’re never there for me
I’m not that mean.
I’m just
P
M
Sing.
A Burnell Jun 2012
THE LIAR
I thought you were different
But really,
You’re just like everyone else.
Don’t you have any sense of compassion or guilt?
Anything at all?
I don’t know how you can sleep at night
Knowing who you really are.
You keep acting happier than before
And I can’t take it any more.
I’m ready to get rid of you
For everything you’ve done to me.
A Burnell Jun 2012
‘Learning’

Seriously, people?
How can you expect Us
To remember the first fifty digits of Pi
The theory stating the circumference
Of a circle embedded in a square
Divided by this
Or that
Times the velocity of E=MC something?
I don’t remember
Nor care
Of the event that changed the history
Of the coffee bean
Or how to throw a lacrosse ball.
We know you don’t recall either
So let’s get real here.
Teach me something worthwhile.
A Burnell Jun 2012
Sleeping

We are
Dreaming
Relaxing
Replenishing
Winding down
Breaking
Imagining
Exploring
Refueling
Breathing
Sighing
Sle­eping.
A Burnell Jun 2012
It’s not the school part about high school I don’t like;
It’s the people.
It doesn’t matter who’s the most ‘material’ here;
No one needs two-hundred dollar boots
And a phone with a screen
Bigger than your hand.
Who cares if the most people ‘like’ you
Or if you’ve got the most contacts?
None of it means anything to me.
It surely won’t mean jack
When you all grow up and go to college.
(Or maybe you won’t, because you spent
Too much money on those boots
Your feet grew out of in three months.)

It’s not the school part about high school I don’t like;
It’s the people.
I’ll be out and away in two years,
Escaping from high school
With wings sprouted from my heels.
Right now,
They’re too weak to lift me off the ground.
Soon, I’ll take flight
And abandon ‘the best time of my life’.
You’ll see.

For now, all I can do is
Watch,
Laugh,
And shrug it off.

You’ll be nothing when it really counts.
A Burnell Jun 2012
Fireworks exploding
Ripping paper
Turning pages in a book
The bass of a rap beat through a great sound system
A seagull’s cry
The accelerating engine of a car
Water hitting pavement
Clapping
Swishing water through your teeth
Flipping the pages of a book quickly
Gasping
A Burnell Jun 2012
It’s easy for you to say
When you’re not the one suffering a loss.
Why don’t you people mind your own business
And take your own advice?
You know nothing of my struggle,
So just stay out of it.


Life looks different
When you’re the book whose pages are ripped out.
Your pages aren’t placed out of order
And continually mixed together.
Scotch tape and words can hold a book together,
But it’s not the same as when the book could keep itself straight.


I know you are laughing
And living the good life
Because this time,
You’re glad it wasn’t you
Who was shot down like a bird
Hit by a boulder.


I don’t need this right now,
Or any time, thank you.
Adieu.
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