Another day at school, and I am the most pen clicking, pencil pushing, question asking, clueless, self conscious student in my class. Ok, focus….well I try to focus but I never know what the teachers mean when their teaching, and I never know what the priests are preaching, but I do know what I am thinking. And I pray to God that no one else knows the thoughts that linger in my mind. Because there is always a time, but not always a place. And I would do anything to feel the warm embrace of someone who has passed and who loved me. Ok, focus…well I try to focus and I can look at my book all i want but the only thing that goes in is the deep breathe that comes before a sigh. What will all of this school crap mean to me anyhow? Will it help me brush off the struggles on my shoulders, or will it just add more weight to weigh me down. Ok, focus…well I try to focus but instead I sit in class and nod at the teachers to make it seem like I'm paying attention, but what I'm actually doing is trying to shake the troubled thoughts out of my head so that when its my turn to read the passage, I can focus on whats in front of me and not whats behind me. I never knew who to be because I always cared about what everyone would see and if I was better than she or good enough for he and I always wondered when will I be free..When will I be free from the rivers that my tears have formed on my cheek? When will I stop trying to compete and feel complete? When will I get to feel the heat of a love that no one speaks of but everyone desires? When will I get out of this social fire that uses rumors and sadness to make everyone perspire? When will I be free from the mean looks that makes my heartbeat irregular like my temperature when I have fever. but it doesn't matter if I'm sick healthy or dying, because either way I'm gonna keep trying not to care. Ok, focus….how the **** do you expect me to focus when I'm you busy wondering how I look from over there, or if they can see my despair. Do they know ever time I curse and swear? Do I need to fix my hair? Do they know that their words have the power to strip me bare? When will I get the **** over it and grow a pair? Okay, focus on the real question: where? Where do I go from here? Where do I get happiness? Where will this world lead me to after I'm out of these four walls of high school in less than a year? And every time my teacher calls on me to read I have to ask, where are we? and with a grin she always replies focus, Cali.
One of my spoken word poems