kay_b

Every Day I sit

In a spine-crushing chair.

And I’m not sure how I take it,

The nicotine in the air

Do the others even care?

I’m shaking in my chair.

I felt the coldness of eyes on me. Looking up, I see a boy with chocolate eyes, staring into my soul. My heart skips a beat, but it’s not a good feeling like in the books, no.

Do I have a voice?

Bombs are falling constantly on cities

Children are lost to the other side

Meanwhile monsters hide in their mansions

My friends are all getting old 

Getting their permit 

License 

Their own car 

Getting boyfriends, girlfriends 

I’m tired.

Tired of being another number on an attendance sheet.

I’m tired of waking early to work all day

I’m tired of a system made for the privileged