they say there is more to learn than not.
that children are the future.
shaping young minds is
most admirable.
working through ways
for a few hours
makes up for lifetimes without.
the gift of knowledge
makes all the difference.

it is not our place to
tell them how to be.
we can only show them

Why do I feel
Like many of the people
Who are successful
Are
Snakes
...
Okay,
Snakes is way more
Negative a word than
I’d like to use

Many of my friends fit
The description I’m about to give
And I like to think
I sometimes
Do
Too

When I say snakes
I’m referring to those
Who will advocate
Push
Shove
Even when their obstacle
Is a person
To get what they want

They’re the person
Who plays two sports every day
In the spring
To keep up with their fall sport

They use their free period
For another class
Just because they
truly
Want to take
The class

They stalk
The teacher
When they don’t
Get something
Or they read external
Information
Related to the subject
Online

They can be annoying
Rude

Can have ulterior motives
Inquiring about grades
To secretly
Rejoice

Or,

Clench a fist
In frustration

My dad says,
I don’t have that
Burning desire yet

I’m not a snake quite yet

But,
From what I’ve
Observed

To really have success
One
Has to
Be
A
Snake

Comedy class
is a joke
but that's how it's supposed to be
if it weren't we'd be in
serious trouble

I don’t think some of you know
How much you mean to me.
Every time the bell rings, and
I see you coming out of your class,
Reliable, every day,
Calming me and reassuring me that
No matter what is happening,
The world is still moving.
Every time you smile at me in class,
Even though we don’t really talk,
It brightens my day and
Makes me realize that maybe
Mankind isn’t so bad after all.
Every time we share a laugh,
A football game, a tough test,
A change in the school,
I grow closer to each and every one of you,
Even though you don’t realize it.
But when that final bell rings,
Will you be there?
Will you be with me past final exams,
Graduation,
After the final bell?
Because you will know who your real friends are
When the final bell rings.

It's fun to play inside the house,
Puzzles, building blocks and more.
But playing outside is the best,
So just open up the door!

Get some mud on your trousers,
Some grass stains on your shirt.
Play around in the rain or sun,
Don't be scared of all the dirt.

Stomp around in giant puddles,
Whether it's December or July.
The best classroom has no walls,
And is roofed only by the sky.

Don’t look down
where emaciated bodies lie beyond salvation
they’re beneath you
when you preach for profit.

Don’t look down
to idle bones on the edge of prison walls
they’ve already fallen
their hands too bloodied to shake
their eyes too blind to see the mistakes they are yet to make.
Save the souls with the pound sign goals
avert your eyes from the misery of the fallen
they’re not even there
if you don’t look down.

Color’s dervish, wanton rays
bark big waves out to little eyes -
surmise that they could live so bright,
or cut their burden down in middle flight
with Pantone Answer. Limber fantasies
hung dainty on the wire, we blast
a spectrum: chilling op-eds,
townless crier making hay
from sunny days’ hot take.

Alarm us! Twist like windy satchels
full of Great Divide
between the Haves and Left-Behind.
And as the bank vanishes wage,
we colors come of age
in numbers borne to rap
the sounding toll upon its steady head
and leave for dead his monuments
to Avarice, Big Dollar pulled in tow -
it’s too much meat, you know.
Too sufferful for show
when corny love could fit the bill:
high-mounting, climbing still.

Arrest the cold diversions from
your living-time and feel the sun
whenever possible; the harbingers
of war will tremble color-ward
and drop the gun.

I care about popularity
I care about my looks
I care about the boy in the back of the class
Yet
I don't care about who I surround myself with
I don't care about my health, why eat more than 1 meal a day
I only care if the boy in the back of class likes me
Because,
I don't care about myself
I care about you. The one reading, it's You.
It's me,
Caring too much
Acting stupid for you
Starving for you
Just to look perfect enough so you know,
I'm here for you.



It's is such a selfless act of anxiety so discriminated.
This may be confusing so here's a summary!:  it's me saying that I change every aspect of myself,...for myself. But I don't do it for self-acceptance, it's so I can accept YOU accepting me. If I went to school with no makeup, I would think every word you tell me is a lie or that you only talk to me because you HAVE to. Because not even I can look at myself as normal human being when I'm makeupless without breaking down eternally.

Trampling through their city paths,
Hunting ground, mean street.
They perch aloft towers of oak;
Dripping with prestige vine, wrapped
With silk leaves, soft to touch
And hard to climb.

The Sun sets over the seven lakes
Of spring kissed, freshly mown
Fields of scorn blessed by
Solitudal and beady eyes.
Gates keeping out the world that
Wishes them harm.

They sit so high peering down,
At our destitution, our self-prohetised Might!
And think:
“Pfft you all wish you could fly