"tutoring" poems
I met you over Facebook...
You were a stranger to me,
I knew not you,
or your personality.
You were a random, I found you on Facebook.
I said, ''Hi, I know you don't know me and that this is probably weird, but, hi''.
You were cute.
I didn't think it would hurt to add you and maybe talk to you a little.
About a month after I had sent that message I found out I was
switching schools...
Little did I know you went to that school.
We started talking a lot more,
we became good friends.
...I had a crush on you...
I met you about a little while after, you were so cute.
I walked in the door and you just stared at me.
I was frozen.
I was new, I didn't know what to do.
I sat in the back of the room, I kept to myself and was very quiet.
Little ol' you wouldn't let that happen.
You were nice, you talked to me, your friend on the other hand... That little creepy ******* just stared at me.
You and I started talking but so did your friend and I.
I had you and him both wrapped around my little pinky.
An accomplishment any girl in that class would love to have achieved.
Well, I dated him.
I dated my crushes best friend.
The creepy little **** who would stare at me for hours on end.
After no more than a month, he dumped me.
My feeling for Billy, my previous crush started to stir.
Why?
We became great friends.
Best friends.
I was really sad when I found out you were dating my best friend.
You guys had been dating ever since I had gotten there and I now just found out.
Boy don't I feel dumb.
That relationship you two had was cute...
But, it was short lived.
You told me you liked me...
I was shocked,
happy,
astonished,
and then again disappointed.
I told myself to wait,
told myself, ''Oh. He'll come around,''
It never happened.
I fell in love with you.
You invited me over, so I went.
We had fun.
We watched movies...
We played footsies?
Yeah, it happened.
The next Friday after that we hung out and you tutored me...
Wasn't exactly tutoring...
More like a kissing class.
Oh well, I didn't care...
At the moment.
We we're caught up in the moment, and I head you whisper something in my ear.
''Let's make it official,''
I said, ''Let's do it''
You picked me up and carried me into the bedroom,
laid me down on the bed, and passionately kissed me on the lips.
I kissed you back, life was getting better already.
March 22nd, 2012.
It's our anniversary, also my Dad's birthday.
That day leads us to where we are today.
Still together,
still in love,
reaching for our forever.
I never knew that a random guy I added on Facebook would end up meaning so much to me.
I never dreamed I would find someone I love this much.
I could never ask for more.
Now every chance my Dad get he sais, ''You and him are the best birthday present I had ever gotten!''
I wish he was still here today to say that, he left about two months into our relationship.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 6:18 AM UTC
The Beauty Of Wisdom And Intelligence,
You are seen in the Cosmic Reality herself,
You are the female part of Christ, called Wisdom and Intelligence,
Your Cosmic Math's is a beautiful thing to behold,
That a unlearned person like me who loves sports like me who is too unlearned in the world's eyes to understand the beauty of the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
So only the real genius mind's understand your true beauty in the Cosmic Reality herself,
But I was good enough at math's at college to get a 98% in a test score and student tutored a girl in class called Bev.
But Wisdom and Intelligence; you really enlightened great minds like Newton, Einstein and Hawking's?
So Wisdom and Intelligence hear my simple math's plea, I am alone and the math's of Wisdom and Intelligence say's its not right for man to be alone?
So make the one alone into two and then the two become one again?
So my math's is simple and unlearned by Wisdom and Intelligence's mathematical eyes; but its the most beautiful sum in the Cosmic Reality herself?
So Wisdom and Intelligence says I've done the math's?
I've marked your sum; I have graded your test paper A+ and gifted you a younger sister bride to be the sum of sums for all eternality,
This younger sister bride will never divide her love for you,
Because one divide into two should stay two, but by theoretical mathematician's the two become the perfect nought number of one raised to nought or zero power nought or zero is one for all eternality,
You shall always be one in body, heart, mind and soul,
You will always have Wisdom and Intelligence tutoring you about the beauty in the Math's of the Cosmic Reality herself,
But never forget to look up at the star's, nebula's and galaxies together and the two who are one see the Math's of love in each other's eyes and the math's of love in the Cosmic Reality herself.
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
I fell in love with a boy at a coffee shop
who always ordered vanilla chai.
I knew it was love because I could
never get up the courage to speak to him.
I fell in love with a bony fingered,
anorexic boy in my math class.
I think it was the way he did the problems in his head,
so he could use the paper for listing
everything he wanted to eat that day, but wouldn’t.
I fell in love with a girl who had dreadlocks
and burn marks on her neck.
I always fantasized about touching them,
asking if they still warmed up her skin.
I fell in love with the older man at the tutoring center.
I failed Spanish so that I could spend the next semester
eye ******* him from across the study table.
I've always had a thing for married men.
I fell in love with girl who pushed up her
***** and pouted for football players.
It may have been unrequited,
but at least I didn’t catch anything.
I fell in love with the person
who left death threats in my locker.
I’d never known someone who felt
the same way about me as I did.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
I should receive a trophy,
for being a really great actress.
definitely, the big one.
I should tutoring an acting class,
for being a really great pretender.
definitely, I'm the professional one.
Even there's a pain in my chest,
I still can laugh out loud.
Even I'm about to cry,
I still faked a smile.
So, believe me.
I'm a professional actress.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 7:25 AM UTC
*
It was a complete mess.
Loads and loads of things,
From soiled hosiery to paper cups
From books to each piece of clothing I ever had
Were thrown everywhere around in the room.
The whole place looked robbed.
Cleaning the room and keeping things in order
Was never my responsibility.
It was hers.
She would nag about it all the time.
She would ask
What I’d do without her.
This was the one question I never wanted to know the answer.
May be that was why,
I was reluctant to clean the place.
Deep down, I believed,
If I waited long enough,
She would figure I could not manage without her
And she would come back
And clean up the mess.
But weeks had gone,
I still had no clue about her whereabouts.
Why would she do that to me?
I was the love of her life.
“Enough is enough.
I am going to clean this mess.
I don’t need her.”
Enraged, I decided to start with books.
Books were the second best thing in my life.
They’d keep my company always.
Then I saw the book, which she bought me
When we moved to the countryside.
As I picked that book,
A small turquoise-y peacock feather fell.
The falling feather brought to me
A series of memories-
A mix of sad and happy moments with her.
After we moved here, we went to a park
In hope, it would cheer me up.
And it did cheer me up.
We played, we laughed.
At a distance, there was a peacock,
Boasting its colourful feathers.
I’d never seen a peacock before.
Amazed, I found a feather it had left behind.
Which I insisted to keep.
She placed it in the book
We just bought.
I still tremble sometimes,
When sights of my drunkard father beating her cross my mind.
He would abuse her and do sick things to her,
Still she would say he was my father
And I ought to respect him.
How could I?
And one time, he beat me.
He beat me with a belt
Because she bought a ‘stupid’ book for me
Instead of a bottle of bear.
That was the last time
I’d seen him.
She decided we would move away
Without any second thoughts.
“You’re meant for great things.”
She would always say.
She did odd jobs,
Tailoring, waitressing, private tutoring,
So that we could manage my school bills, rent
And square meals a day,
Probably ignoring health and physical wellness.
She sacrificed everything for me.
When she’d me, she left her job to look after me.
After we moved here,
Things were supposedly normal.
But she was going great troubles
To make ends meet,
With a smile on her face, she kept going.
At that instant, I knew she would never leave me.
She was still watching me,
Probably telling the stars
About her 'childish' son.
“I will make you proud.”
I promised to my Mom, my hero.
… And I am still trying.
*
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
I'm a relic of the past..
Something that time should of wiped away while passing through, and yet choosed to drop here. A place where i don't belong.
I was never meant for this world. A place where concepts such as compassion, sympathy or love have almost become exctinct from the people's minds a long time ago.
I should of have been born when wars where fought hand to hand. Clothes where made only by silk.
And wise men were tutoring right before your own eyes.
Purpose is what gives me hope. Helps me breath at nights.
Dreaming is my escape from this misery. Making me feel whole when everything else feels hollow. Guilt is my motivation when there's nothing more to fight for. Pushing me to fix everything again.
And sorrow is my only companion. Never to leave my side. And what a strange companion it is. She has no tongue or language to use, yet constantly whispers in my ear. Often using my own voice.
No arms. Yet i feel her grip all around my chest, sometimes even within my soul. Strong as ever. She screams when i'm asleep. And whispers when i'm awake.
She's my one and true friend. Never to leave my side until this journey ends. And time himself takes pity on me..
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
Dear Sir,
Should I go make myself visible--too visible in your eyes? I could pour over my brother's notes and raise my hand to every question you have just to have your eyes at me.
Was that too desperate? Should I play dumb and ask you for extra lessons outside of class? I could stand quiet corner coffee shops, away from prying eyes. I'll even discard the uniform. And you can get to wear that awful tie. That's what they call a "Win-Win Scenario" in Sales, right?
I could strike every corny joke in the block, make pick-up lines, even sing off key to make you see that I'm not such a student-y student.
I could be your friend! I could be your best student. I could be your favorite--I'll try extra harder! I could be your girl. I could be your coffee buddy, your official class manager/monitor, the very person you assign extra notes to be passed on. I'll volunteer on every project you have your hands into---
I want to be yours. In every possible single way. We could hustle and bustle in shadows of people who couldn't understand; I'll get you more weird looking ties for the weekend. I could type your exams in exchange for extra tutoring; we'll hold each others hands until this winter melts to spring.
Because I swear, when your eyes met mine; when your lips told me "I'll see you again, next time."; I knew I needed you. It's time to make you need me, too.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 10:16 AM UTC
Is there a place somewhere known and yet unknown
where humans keep or lose their guilts
Is there a dumping hole or a snug
or a fierce incinerator blazing
That destroys or obliterates
human guilts
Is it a known some guilts carry comfortably and alone
just another thing for the holdall satchel bag or arm
Someday its worryingly heavy on the shoulders
other times it's just small and weightless
An accessory as any others
imperceptibly light
Is the heavy guilt or tons heavy ones like granite stone
a weary toil left in a storage or thrown over a cliff
What ever done guilts come with a personal receipt
bearing owners name time and number
Attached to owner and carried 24/7
marked as 'Non-Transferable'
Is your guilt or guilts bearable or carry-able like your phone
have you stored, hidden it or pushed down a crevice
What about the indelible receipt on your person
that which is there and rests on you
Does it flare like an incindaries
or just simmer quietly
Is your guilt a bedfellow that clings to your chest in a zone
whispering in tone foreboding and chills persistent
Or one that wades in and recedes like shore waves
perhaps it's a type like a central rigid statue
An unmovable edifice of horror
coated in fear and alarm
Is your guilt light and niggly, a Bonsai with no tall grown
did you amend paying a due and penanced did leave
And though the attached receipt still haunts you
least you know it will gradually fade away
Leaving truly tutoring imprints
Never to be repeated
Is your guilt a stranger yet unmet and your spirit happy flown
do you walk in salient steps with no recourse to remorse
And greet each morn with pleasantries to I, me and self
enthralled no rent paid for secret storage or a crevice
Just the one that stands before man and Creation
Held aloof by a Conscience unstained
Copyright@Laurence14th Aug2018.all rights reserved.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
(To the tune of "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree!)
Today, I was offered a job, prithee,
Tutoring crims in literacy,
Silent reading for all the he's,
I'd be part of their conspiracy,
They'd all have a million dollars, you see,
Buried under the jail's old oak trees,
For their chicks and kids to live comfortably,
That's why they like gardening, you see,
It looks like the gophers have been,
The crims have left the scene!
They swiped the prison bus,
Forgot about "Literacy and Us!"
The governor put the blame on me!
So much for teaching prison literacy,
Now there's lots of holes under the jail's old oak trees,
Yes, the gophers have been,
The crims have left the scene,
All with a million dollars, you see,
Well, they learnt to spell 'conspiracy',
That was my job teaching literacy!
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 4:20 PM UTC
Everyone wants to just stick it in the hole,
And pound the pin in,
Ask them to tie some nylons with their hands,
And they're all pinkies.
Kids these days,
Can't even play an F chord,
Three string chords
And verse chorus verse,
It gets worse every year.
Thank the lord above, that guitar geeks are born periodically,
To make that thing neigh, like a Bad Horsie,
And prove, a three piece garage band can still rock the block.
For every one hundred and fifty parttime power chord players, hiding their lack of practice behind digital effects,
And excessive distortion,
There's one Jimmy Hendrix or Dimebag Darrel born.
I see the brows furrowing now,
As you wonder, how does this geezer know about Dimebag?
Just because I prefer the feel and vibration, of a classical guitar in my arms,
Doesn't mean I don't Listen to Sabbath,
and I was a Dime bag fan in the seventies.
Power chords are fine by me,
It makes my tutoring sessions, much easier,
I don't even bother trying to convince them that there are more chords,
Unless, they have that thing about them.
That little floating sign that says
"You are special",
Or the eight year old,
Who mysteriously has thick callouses on his fingers,
Even though he never picked up a guitar before.
What I'm trying to say is,
There is nothing wrong with the kids these days.
I hated learning my scales too.
Rock and roll is here to stay,
As long as the next Hendrix isn't
Aborted.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 7:08 AM UTC
so he had my number because we met for tutoring on Wednesdays after class but he would text me really late at night asking me the weirdest stuff i would politely say this is incredibly inappropriate and i would not like to talk like this with you but still around two am he would text me lewd stuff again and again then asking if i would go on a date i said dude i am old enough to be your mother imagine if
a guy
received texts
like that
from a girl
insisting to do ****** stuff BUT
he
would
have
liked
it.
Jul 5, 2017
Jul 5, 2017 at 6:07 PM UTC
I got my dancing shoes back on again today.
**** did it feel good!
I also got back into the rhythm and began tutoring for the beginner level class.
I can't believe that I would really miss that, but I did.
My excitement for dancing has been relit,
And the chance to pass that onto yet another class has me smiling.
A new class and a new semester of opportunities,
With growth and learning available to both the students as well as me.
It's such a great feeling to help them succeed,
As well as helping them progress, especially when they thought they were beyond saving.
Dance is a passion which burns within me.
I can't describe how good it feels to be back,
Adding fuel to the flame which burns in me so brightly,
Adding fuel to a flame
That I almost let get extinguished.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 3:44 AM UTC
'What if he's stuck
and no great help is kicking in
to help him?"
Is this your mind
annoying you again?
Is this your artificial voice
blocking your sight?
I might just get a little furious right now;
I tried and tried so hard to teach you
that-
if there is a truth-
that it will reach you
Your ears be closed
or not.
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 7:48 AM UTC
He bends over the paper, his pencil scribbling,
trying to keep up with his neurons firing.
Three plus eight is eleven, carry the one,
He shows me when he’s done,
and for a moment looks at me
questioning, did he succeed?
Carefully, I check his work, I smile, I nod.
The light in his eyes lights up the world.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
They say love makes the world go ‘round…
But try proposing without a diamond that whispers loud…
Money…
Family dinners full of smiles and fights repressed…
Money…
Cousins showing up at Christmas looking freshly blessed…
Money…
The secret to youth? It’s not kale or prayer…
Money…
Just a surgeon, a syringe, and some derriere repair…
Money…
You want the Nobel? Sure, write your thesis with flair…
Money…
But someone still paid for that tenured chair…
Money…
The kids need books, a laptop, and a chance to dream…
Money…
Also Wi-Fi, tutoring, and a school with steam…
Money…
Evolution gave us fire, but civilization gave us class…
Money…
And the biggest difference between king and ***
Money…
You want to change the world? Start a cause? Break a curse?
Money…
Or you’ll be that guy with vision… and an empty purse…
Money…
Science needs data, equipment, and trust…
Money…
Also snacks for the lab, and a fridge that won’t rust…
Money…
Want to flirt, be adored, radiate that spark?
Money…
Or stay home, scroll apps, and die in the dark…
Money…
Even funerals aren’t free, your last “to-do”…
Money…
Because dying is easy, but burial? Whew…
Money…
So next time someone tells you it isn’t everything…
Money……
So here’s your truth, wrapped neat and funny:
Everything you touch, trust, taste, or tolerate runs on…
Money…
May 4, 2025
May 4, 2025 at 3:33 PM UTC
my hair absorbed the humidity like the mop that dips into the watered down Fabuloso on sunday mornings
slaps on the floor and rubs back and forth on wood
i looked at the ground after stares from the first five grown men i passed
i felt dizzy chasing after meaning
i walked until i pictured myself downtown
peering in at sweet pork spots
and bakery corner shops with the occasional
we buy gold stands and ads for tutoring nearby
feel the cobblestone of the streets beneath my feet
making it hard to walk in an aligned manner
i felt my face flush of coolness
i step to the side holding on to one of the vans
that have fake coach and yves saint laurent in the trunk
look at my hands
skin translucent veins undeniably apparent
wipe my eye and i’m back
on the ave
on a saturday morning
strolling
formulating my escape
Apr 13, 2019
Apr 13, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
A young girl was reading a book today, about a girl and her dog, and the hardships they went through together.
The young girl then looked up at me and asked, "What does beauty symbolize?"
I sat there and begin to wonder what it actually symbolizes.
I asked her this question:
"If you are reading a book about hardships, why are you thinking of beauty?"
She replied, "Because their relationship is still beautiful."
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
I'm dancing with my Muslim friend,
Tutoring with a lesbian,
Sharing quotes with the physics kid,
Night-running through campus lit,
Dreaming of journeys from deep within,
And nothing at all feels alien.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
Studying,
all night long,
learning and trying,
tutoring with patients,
and so it grows...
Saving myself,
protecting me,
form others,
from myself,
and so it grows...
Laughing at nothing,
as we lay in darkness,
pushing us closer together,
and so it grows...
Naps,
oh the naps,
taking time for ourselves,
alone in company,
and so it grows...
As it blossoms,
as it strengthens,
intertwining,
and oh how it grew.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 11:43 PM UTC
The day after you called and told me you wanted to stop seeing me, I sat alone in a Barnes & Noble. I was exhausted from the night before spent lying, screeching on the floor. I sat alone there trying to convince myself that if I could just do my work, I’d stop thinking about you. I used to like thinking about you. It used to make me smile. Now, I think of how it all was just a lie and now I sit alone at Barnes & Noble wondering just how stupid I am. I am sitting for awhile, fighting the sleep that begs to consume my eyes. I sit and I notice the people: a woman tutoring on the other side of the pole, a young black woman viciously eating a spinach croissant while flipping through three different books all at once, and finally a man sitting to my left, with a single coffee cup and a book in hand. This man has been glancing my way for the past 20 minutes. I am trying to stay awake and I am trying not think. I do not want to think about what this man is thinking of me. I do not want to think because then I will think of you. Soon he leaves and I feel a breath of fresh air wash over me. I am sitting alone and I am no longer being watched. Five minutes goes by and that man sits down at the chair opposite my table. I look up and he begins.
“I’m sorry to bother you. My name is Jake.”
“My name is Rhianna, nice to meet you.”
“Again, I’m sorry to bother you but I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner.”
Look, I’ve never known how to handle these situations. What do you say to someone you don’t even know who wants to take you out? How does someone you just met want to take you out more than the person you have spent so much of your time on?
“What..how… how are you?”
“Me? I’m good.”
“How old are you?”
“24..”
Ouch. Wait, that’s how old my, uh, not ex-boyfriend is. Hold your ******* tongue, dude.
“How old are you?”
“I’m 18.” He ***** in air hard.
“Do you go to UNCW?”
“Yes.”
“What are you studying?”
The conversation continues, and he puts his number in my phone: Jake. Not even a last name. Dinner? Yeah, we’ll see. He gets up to go.
“Again, I’m sorry to bother you.”
“Yeah, no worries. Thank you.”
He leaves. Here I am, in a Barnes & Noble. Tears dripping down my face as this man walks away. It’s not his fault. So why am I sad? Was it the way he made me feel? The way he said my name? The way it wasn’t you? I wanted to call you. I wanted you to tell me you were gonna beat his *** if he came back. I wanted you to make me laugh. I wanted you to make me feel better. I wanted you to walk around the bookshelf and scoop me up like you did the night on the beach.
I’m sitting in Barnes and Noble, getting hit on by random strangers. Their interest mocking me, reminding me of your absence.
I guess they’ll have to do.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 6:10 PM UTC
I walk
I walk to get around
I walk and listen to natural sounds
I walk in sunshine
And mostly in twilight
Sometimes the things I see
Seem subliminally superb
And slightly more special
At night
I listen
I listen to the problems
And issues of others
Because I know I've most likely been there
Before
I listen
To ludicrous outcries
And lacivious and lustful Lamentations
Looking listfully luxurious
Our eyes meet
And it passes
I speak
Rarely,
And usually only within my mind
Because I know
Nobody is really interested
In what I have to say
Silently I suffer
Because some have it worse
Most have it better
But that point is moot
Shoot
I've rambled
Rampant revelling
Revealing raucous and ****
Riotous rituals
Relinquishing my radiance
I fade
Into an abyss
Created from my loneliness
I am alone
And some times I feel
It will always be so
I've made mistakes
My mind mauling
My insides
Meticulously melting
My very memory
Merely a moment
In time
I fear
I fear that one day
A chalk line will
Slowly and surely
Produce a vague image if me
An outline
An ode to my sadness
Of course I know it won't
But one can't have this much pain
And not fear these things
It's obscene
The things I say to me
Taught by torment
Tutoring myself in torture
I'm mean
To myself
And no one else
I hear the things I say to me
And shudder to think
The damage my words could cause Another
Music
Sets me free
And alleviates this anger
In allegory allowing the air
To absolve my anguish
Almost
And then.....
I change my train of thought
Too touchy is this subject matter
Or not
But mostly.......
I walk.
Apr 26, 2019
Apr 26, 2019 at 1:04 AM UTC
i
should have walked away then,
i woke up
crying
scared
i'm
only sixteen
my
parents will **** me
everyone
will be so disappointed
i
didn't think anything of it
i
guess you didn't either
we
were in the midst of the moment of the sweetest of love
i
wasn't ready for this
you
weren't either
i spent the night with my friend
and
you
were mad at me that morning
you were wishing
that i had never
walked into that room after school for tutoring
you were wishing
that you had never gotten to know my name
you were wishing
that you had never kissed me
you were wishing
that you had never pushed me into this
you were wishing
you could take back my innocence
we
didn't get any sleep
you
stayed up late that night before
thinking
hoping
maybe
i decided
i didn't love
you
so much
one night
so maybe this baby
wouldn't be
yours
if this baby
was to even exist
you
told all
your
friends
about how
you
****** up
and for some reason
they respected
you
for hurting me
for leaving me
we're
both so young
we
both made this mistake
i
had no money
my
friend paid for
my
mistake
it came in a box
the plus sign didn't even appear
but you
warned me in advance
you
said
you were gonna leave
and you
did
but i
held on
because neither of
us
were even sure
and you
said
you
would **** yourself
before you
had to drop everything
going for
you
to pay for the support
of this child's life
your child
it would have been
yours
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
The End is near.
War , riots , and pain.
The world around us, is changing.
Changing in the wrong path, as we continue.
The Grounds rumbling furiously,
The wind swirling around us out of control.
Men, woman , and children fighting,
tooth and nail.
Out of control, no one is safe.
Protectors turning against us, beating , and tutoring.
The end is near.
Cries , and pleas are swept away from
the ears of the protectors.
Screams and blood follows in the paths,
of the one's we love.
Why must we suffer?
In pain and agony?
Is it already too late to change our ways?
Well the end come sooner then we think?
The end.
The end is near.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC
The golden light caresses the horizon,
Almost like a rainbow flushed out one final go-
Before the world is devoid of light for the next two ‘prahars’ of the day.
The time when we bearing the weights of extended tutoring or -
The day job, come out, to public squares
Take roads illuminated by street lights to a destination where -
There is either a plate of food waiting on or aperitifs to begin a night a revelry.
Both fulfilling.
But, gluttony kicks in, which is almost second nature,
To gorge on (circa Harari, Yuval Noah).
In inebriation, inhibitions take a hike; the decisions to call/text people are usually very wrong.
We need to accept that the things we do then,
It’s what we wanted to do all along but societal/personal pressure - Inhibitors do not let us, which blow off when alcohol blurs them.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 2:43 PM UTC
Tell me again,
how I'm not good enough.
Tell me again,
how I must strive to be better,
in order to be accepted
not only by the best colleges,
but also by my peers.
No one likes a stupid girl, right?
I'll bring home a B as a final grade,
but you'll stick me in tutoring anyway,
Because of what a test grade has to say.
Is this encouragement?
Or is it simply what you're using,
to mask the disappointment?
Don't think I can't see it.
You're saying with a smile,
that this will be good for me,
but in reality, you think I need it,
just to get by.
Tell me again
to try harder.
Just signal me with your eyes!
I don't need you to voice it.
Tell me again
Tell me, over and over,
and over again.
And with every time you voice your opinion,
I'll scream louder,
I know.
I know I am not good enough.
One day I will lose my voice telling you.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC