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School is the devil
But learning’s pretty fun, eh
I’m just ***-guh-ry

-Slang
You don’t know fear until you’ve walked to the bathroom late at night
the floorboards creek as you
step
step
step
every open door becomes an abyss
leading to the depths of hell
you refuse to make eye contact with any mirror
for you fear that you’ll see something you don’t want to
and you keep your eyes on the prize
but
the path seems to grow longer
the bathroom seems to become farther away
so you start picking up speed
because you feel breath on the back of your neck
and it tingles
you have no idea what it could be so you go into a regular jog
the bathroom still seems to be a mile away
and all of a sudden you start hearing things
voices? noises?
you’re sure it’s just your mind playing tricks on you
but they begin to get closer
and soon they show up on your list of
‘things I should be running from’
right below ‘drugs’ and ‘ex girlfriends’
but that’s a different poem,
anyways,
you’re running now
the finish line is in sight
you burst through the door, quietly
and feel a since of pride
‘I did it!’ you say to yourself
‘I did it! I did it!’
then you do what you originally came to do in the first place
I don’t feel it’s necessary to elaborate on that
then you say your prayers quietly in the bathroom
and begin your journey back

-Slang
As I pass through Art Museums
I see a ton of art that’s titled
‘Untitled’
and as I look at the art I make the realization as to why it’s
‘Untitled’
because I, like the artist, can’t decide what it resembles
so I decided that if I write a poem entitled
‘Untitled’
then it’d be counted as art
close enough?
I thought so.
But I like
‘Untitled’
artwork, it provides room for creativity
like this poem could be about Dragons
if you really imagine it
and if you replace all the times I say
‘Untitled’
with
‘Dragon’
then, boom, you have a nice medieval tale
with knights, dragons, the whole shebang
yes?
no?
oh well, it’s your imagination not mine
but if I were you
I’d make it about dragons
why?
cause.
Angry Pen, Angry Pen, oh how I hate you Angry Pen
I wish you'd do some changing
Cause you're the only one demonstrating sin
You make me angry, Angry Pen
I know the writing can't begin
If you're too angry, angry, angry, angry
You're a raging pen
And sometimes, I just wish you'd disappear
Don't get me wrong when you're happy, I love to have you near
And when you're mad, well
It's a sad thought, cause it's never been this bad
But when you're mad I trail off like the tail of the rat
And it only gets worse
Sometimes I just wish you were in the back of a hearse
I want to put you to death
Put you to rest
And I don't mean to curse
But you **** me off angry pen
This pain isn't something I deserve
But Angry Pen, I don't understand, why you have to be so cross
Were you created that way or were you just taught
and if you want to be that way, well, then I'd rather you not
Because of you angry pen people think I'm a slob
Angry Pen, Angry Pen
How you nauseate me pen
I don't mean to be hating but I think I feel a changing wind
You used to make me angry
I used to think you were demonstrating sin
But that seems to be fading
Because I wrote this poem with the so called 'Angry Pen'

-Slang

— The End —