Poetry of the Youth

Approached Seventh to the eighth, may kids will turn to faith, Fall school semester has begun, and there’s no where left to run slammed into my seat for the summer is done, we whip out our pencils and there’s no more fun we speak of our language and numbers in all, these teachers think we learn from all their gall finally a chance has been given to express, a chance worth leaving the sound of Inexes a piece of blank paper represents opportunity, and I guide my pen on it to release my solitudity for poetry is no crime but a rhyme, smells like a pine and strokes the heart on a dime