Three Areas

Every lunchtime,

Every break,

Everytime my mind is overflowing with vicious thoughts,

I write,

I flow,

My pencil chokes out words onto the lines pages,

It spits out lyrics onto the empty sheets

I have to go to my special place to write efficiently

I need to be able to concentrate,

Either by the window,

Where I can see everything,

In the ceramic “writing tree”,

Where I’m amongst everything,

Or by my class,

By the lockers,

Where I am shielded by the everything,

But sometimes the everything breaks through this shield,

And I’m engulfed by this precarious wave,

And I have to flee,

But today, 

All my three areas,

Had parts of the everything in there,

And the tree

Was most likely wet

And that boiled my blood,

But sometimes on bad days, 

When the people you wanna talk to,

Or look at,

Aren’t there to make you happy,

Pretty much all you can do is deal with it,

I have to deal with too much already,



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