Categories > Original > Poetry
Once in a classroom with light blue walls
And colourful posters in mismatched lines
She learnt how to add and subtract
And how to spell and form sentences
And it was useful, because everyone needs to know
Simple maths and how to read and write
And she went home and her parents were proud
And she watched cartoons before bedtime.
Her parents switched off the light and tucked her in
Warm and at peace they kissed her head,
Marvelling at her innocence and naivety
Her excitement for life
Her love for everyone.
Once in a classroom with blue walls
And rules and worksheets tacked in lines
She learnt how to multiply and divide
And how to make paragraphs from her sentences
And it was useful because everyone should know
Maths and how to write with sophistication
And she went home and her parents were proud
And as she watched the beautiful actors on television
She wondered why she wasn’t as pretty as them.
Her father was working so her mother switched off the light
But she was afraid of the dark.
Once in a classroom with bleak grey walls
And essays stapled up in straight lines
She learnt how God didn’t exist because science said so
And it was silly to think that he cared at all
And the children agreed in monotone, but she didn’t
Although she said nothing of her opinion.
It wasn’t useful, but they said it was.
And she went home and her parents were proud
But she didn’t know why they were so happy
The teacher had written a letter on a piece of paper.
And she watched the news before bed
Where someone had killed thousands in the name of God
And she cried to herself as she pondered
The hypocrisy of society.
She switched off her light and tucked herself into bed
She lay in the dark thinking
She didn’t sleep.
Once in a room with blood red walls
And posters shoved wherever they would fit
Her alarm went off, but she didn’t get up
She had learnt that the world is dark
And it was useful, because why bother?
She failed to see the importance of exams
Of school, of homework, of the future.
She was tired.
Tired of not being pretty
Tired of people killing each other
Tired of essays
Tired of the dark
Tired of judgement
Tired of trying so hard
Just tired
So she didn’t get up,
because how on earth could she?
A/N - This is something that I wrote a while ago, and I know it's a little sad. It's inspired by Stephen Chbosky and it's sort of my take or a different version of his. I decided to post it because I kinda want to know what people think of it, so any rates or reviews are welcome thanks!
And colourful posters in mismatched lines
She learnt how to add and subtract
And how to spell and form sentences
And it was useful, because everyone needs to know
Simple maths and how to read and write
And she went home and her parents were proud
And she watched cartoons before bedtime.
Her parents switched off the light and tucked her in
Warm and at peace they kissed her head,
Marvelling at her innocence and naivety
Her excitement for life
Her love for everyone.
Once in a classroom with blue walls
And rules and worksheets tacked in lines
She learnt how to multiply and divide
And how to make paragraphs from her sentences
And it was useful because everyone should know
Maths and how to write with sophistication
And she went home and her parents were proud
And as she watched the beautiful actors on television
She wondered why she wasn’t as pretty as them.
Her father was working so her mother switched off the light
But she was afraid of the dark.
Once in a classroom with bleak grey walls
And essays stapled up in straight lines
She learnt how God didn’t exist because science said so
And it was silly to think that he cared at all
And the children agreed in monotone, but she didn’t
Although she said nothing of her opinion.
It wasn’t useful, but they said it was.
And she went home and her parents were proud
But she didn’t know why they were so happy
The teacher had written a letter on a piece of paper.
And she watched the news before bed
Where someone had killed thousands in the name of God
And she cried to herself as she pondered
The hypocrisy of society.
She switched off her light and tucked herself into bed
She lay in the dark thinking
She didn’t sleep.
Once in a room with blood red walls
And posters shoved wherever they would fit
Her alarm went off, but she didn’t get up
She had learnt that the world is dark
And it was useful, because why bother?
She failed to see the importance of exams
Of school, of homework, of the future.
She was tired.
Tired of not being pretty
Tired of people killing each other
Tired of essays
Tired of the dark
Tired of judgement
Tired of trying so hard
Just tired
So she didn’t get up,
because how on earth could she?
A/N - This is something that I wrote a while ago, and I know it's a little sad. It's inspired by Stephen Chbosky and it's sort of my take or a different version of his. I decided to post it because I kinda want to know what people think of it, so any rates or reviews are welcome thanks!
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