The Bell

Wed, 10/19/2016 - 16:58 -- kpgoode

I sit quietly in a desk working on my homework. Conversations are becoming ramp just like how my worries are increasing. Don't worry I tell myself. It's all good. You have it under control. More thoughts, more worries. More thoughts, more worries. A bell rings. A bell rings but I don't get up. The stomping of feet feel like the stomping of thoughts inside my head. The heat in this place. This hell. It builds up like pressure inside my chest. Words are thrown at me in a way..in a way..that makes me want to explode. The water I hear dripping are my tears falling to the dry christened floor. My pencil slips out of my hand and onto my desk just like the way my heart drops inside my chest. A bell rings. A bell rings and I still don't get up. Again conversations are ringing, people are singing, my heart is hardly beating. I'm just here. I'm fading. I'm just a person in the back ground waiting to be touched. Waiting to be reached out and picked up under the fluorescent sun. The thoughts are still there. The worries are still running and running and running. But why can't I run? I want to run away from those worries not run towards them. My dazed fog still chooses to hang low like in the summer mornings. Please I beg. Fade away. Soon my heart just starts to flutter. The fog in my mind begins to fade away as the sun peaks. Everything feels. Better. I start to smile and laugh. I am better. And so eventually a bell rings. A bell rings and I get up.

This poem is about: 
Me

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