Writing
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The Taste of Home
Peeling white paint
Stained wooden floors
Dim yellow light bulbs
Papers strewn across the floor
An unmade bed piled with blankets and pillows
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Whispers of a home
I hear the tick of a clock letting me know every second I am wasting as I scroll through my phone,
the slide of my finger against the screen,
the tap of my thumb as I message someone back,
artificial noise.
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A child in Spring
Some where there is a child jumping in new puddles,
playing in the soft mud of the Earth,
full of joy.
Some where a child picks springs new dandelions,
blowing on the fluffy seeds to make wishes.
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Math Homework on the Beach
People relax on the beach
Swimming in the salty ocean
Running their toes through the sand
Taking in the scenery
And people dread homework
I could be on the beach
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The Limit
I reach my limit from time to time.
whether it be at school or at home.
I reach the limit of what my brain can handle.
All of the noise of life becomes too much and I need to take a break.
I need to turn my ears off.
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The Classroom That Morning
The morning bell rang
just like it always had.
Backpacks lined the wall,
bright pink, sky blue,
zippers half open
with pencils and erasers inside.
A teacher wrote quietly
on the chalkboard,