Freshman Year

Wed, 03/04/2015 - 19:41 -- Je9

Oh you poor unfortunate soul

lost on the first day of

high school,

stumbling through an

unnavigable metropolis of

new, people, places.

So excited, so awkward

in your long shorts and

kiddish T-shirts.

Uniforms never taught

you how to dress normally.

As you trip up the stairs

As your locker starts a

feud and refuses to open

you feel the shame

Nerd, nerd, nerd, (outcast)

that’s all you were in

middle school, the word

churned and curdled

in your mind and

You feel bitter.

Bitter and frustrated

at your own social inability.

“Middle school residue”

that will take

a while (your life)

to clean off.

Maybe you’re the

Cinderella story who

never found a fairy godmother within her.

Maybe high school will

just be a repeat, sorry

record playing on loops

(you were always out of

the loop).

 

Or,

maybe not.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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