Just_a_writer

The way that people talk and write about college made me think I knew what I was in for. But it’s a Wednesday night in April, and I’ve finished all of my homework for the day, so I’m in a restaurant alone.

I’ve already fallen for them,

But they’re in love with the shy girl with the pretty hair.

This person I’ve fallen for,

They’ll never realize that I’m waiting by the door.

I asked my friend

For a poem idea 

She said 

Write a poem about sewer rats

So this is my poem about rats

Squeak

Squeak

Scurrying through the city 

Twelve years, eleven months, and twenty seven days.

She only had twelve years, eleven months, and twenty seven days:

Of running through life wearing rose colored glasses glued to her face, 

I am someone who wonders if she will ever know. 

But someone who knows there can be a place for uncertainty too,

even though it isn't often valued.

Most people seem so confident,

like they know who they are,