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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1786789
My joking semi-seriously view of high school, before graduation.
Tears from the wasted years
forgotten and frozen,
streaming from above,
the memories come
like pictures
one
by
one. 

The years we’ll never get back,
the years that were lost to the storm. 
The years that were stolen
from us by the thieving counselors. 

All of our time consumed by
mindless homework and the
drone of lecturing teachers. 
The time we could have spent exploring the world,
one town at a time.
 
The time we spent walking to class
could have been spent in museums
learning about our history. 

The minutes,
the hours
we spent in lunch all four years wasted. 
Those wasted time spans
could have been spent finding the cure for cancer,
running a marathon
or going fishing. 


Our minds were like robots,
never functioning freely. 

All the years stolen from us by our corrupted government.
Those years vanish before our eyes. 


Test days fly by,
tardies building up. 
Detentions and saturday schools
become routine, and
attendance in class is
virtually nonexistent. 

The years we were held captive
were far too long,
and extended by one persons ability
to screw up tradition. 

The prison cells locked for one last day. 
our years dying slowly. 
The tears fly,
the years forgotten and frozen in time. 

The years are a quick flip scrap book thrown on a shelf.
a new book is coming. 
The years behind us are forever over,
only the years to come stand in our way.
Freedom is here.
Dream like theres no tomorrow,
and march on brave senior,
march on.
© Copyright 2011 E.Smith (abiigurl at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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