Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2013
my pencil taps like a metronome against the wood that is my desk
each second being counted by my mind longing for the sound of the blaring bell
to indicate it's time to move on, I play the waiting game all day
sitting alone in the corner of the room, every couple minutes dazing out the window into the scenery
all the kids in the classroom mindlessly talking away, my ears focusing in and out of conversations
not because I want to hear but instead because I'm forced, their mouths blaring like sirens off a firetruck
I sit here, thoughts eating me away like always waiting for the day to come to an end,
waiting for the time I get to myself to lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling for seemingly no reason at all
I feel more lonely than ever, the feeling that no body cares or has any genuine interest in me anymore,
the feeling that my friends hate me and even if they say they don't I won't believe them
the feeling that I just want to lay here and wait for the day to come where I go to sleep and don't wake up
but I want to live, I want to see the next day and hope that something happens, something of a miracle
maybe everything will come together one day, and that's what I'm hoping for
but until then, here in my bed I will lay pondering of what good things may come
I just hope they come soon
Nick M
Written by
Nick M
  815
   oaks i kill and Ashley Anne
Please log in to view and add comments on poems