Apr 2020
Classrooms of emptiness
Remember her linen dress
Iron-on patched backpack
Math class with no slack
Crumbling walls
As we ghostwalk the halls
The place we had lunch
With our wild bunch
Trash littered parking lots
Weeds rule football plots
Wind whistled window frames
Dreams we'd achieve fame
A culture of bullying
With behind bleacher ***-beatings
They might all be gone
But scars are carried along
A tomb of lost memories
Waxed floors on our hands and knees
Now just empty dirt
The school may be gone
But never the hurt
Never the hurt
Remember her linen dress
Iron-on patched backpack
Math class with no slack
Crumbling walls
As we ghostwalk the halls
The place we had lunch
With our wild bunch
Trash littered parking lots
Weeds rule football plots
Wind whistled window frames
Dreams we'd achieve fame
A culture of bullying
With behind bleacher ***-beatings
They might all be gone
But scars are carried along
A tomb of lost memories
Waxed floors on our hands and knees
Now just empty dirt
The school may be gone
But never the hurt
Never the hurt
Sometimes as we get older we forget about the everyday awful things that happened to us in high school and how much of our lives were defined there. I wrote this poem as a tribute to those high school memories that we all have or are making presently
