History
Each day in the class of History,
I would think up a catastrophe.
While learning the economy’s twists and bends,
I dreamt how the world would end.
My grades went down and my dreams up,
Like balancing a spoon on a cup.
In the world of my own,
I put the class on postpone.
As I went into my mind,
A place only I could find.
When days stay dark,
My fictional journey embarks.
While stars exploded
And planets imploded,
While seas overflowed
And the earth’s crust erode,
While Storms give chase
and we fly into the darkest part of space
a place where the lights don’t shine,
In this fictional world of mine.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.