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May 2014
The way you smoothly maneuver your tongue
Past your teeth and getting a quick sample of your lip
It drives me insane, in a way that I feel my chest thud
I've got to focus on the lecture and get a grip

There's something about you being infuriated
Something about you slamming your fists
On the blackboard and teacher's table when you're mad
It's a scalding hot feeling that persists
No love. No emotions. Just getting high off of what you're displaying during Math class.
My High School Poetry
Written by
My High School Poetry  Spain
(Spain)   
608
   Mary
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