F R E E

I'm 15 years old now.Ms. Luna calls my name." Pay attention Ms. Campos, your timed assignments not a game."" Well i'm trying hard to focus. B-but these words inside my brain...They keep getting in the way see, but nevermind-i'll concentrate."   "Psst. Come home, we understand you."I hear them once again.I glance down and touch my notebook.Lightly, I lift my pen.   As if some words could save me,or take me far away.As if this little hobby;is so much more than play.   You ever felt that feeling?Being swayed off to a place...Like a portal from reality;A much needed holiday.    So I open up the journal;All the clutter starts to shrink.This might very well be magicOr some madness matched with ink.  I might fail this class I know it.But gosh, I've never felt so F R E E.Mom will never understand it-Oops. "TIMES UP."Bell rings.    

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerfully expressed! Truly powerful! Keep sharing keep sharing! The world needs your expression! Keep sharing your life your mind your heart! 

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