May 2014
It’s 1:33 as the teacher calls on me.. Dominique, are you in there?
I respond with “I’m thinking of my future but not the one you’d hope for me the one I aspire to see, writing things with passion maybe even screaming why I chose to be this way. Why I don’t show up to school until the fourth period bell rings because every Friday we read our feelings out loud that we throw on a piece of paper, I wait at the stairs when the fifth bell calls his name, run up the stairs to see him smile, Everyday. I don’t really know why I’m here and why I’m afraid to speak up this way.”
Dominique, are you in there?
I respond with a thoughtless look of just go away, you’re too dense to hear what I have to say.
I respond with “I’m thinking of my future but not the one you’d hope for me the one I aspire to see, writing things with passion maybe even screaming why I chose to be this way. Why I don’t show up to school until the fourth period bell rings because every Friday we read our feelings out loud that we throw on a piece of paper, I wait at the stairs when the fifth bell calls his name, run up the stairs to see him smile, Everyday. I don’t really know why I’m here and why I’m afraid to speak up this way.”
Dominique, are you in there?
I respond with a thoughtless look of just go away, you’re too dense to hear what I have to say.
