As the head's of a million figures sway,
I cut my hair short to fit in; to stay.
For where else can any other man go,
once pledged allegiance to a place you don't know?
A white floor and sky, and dark angel's tops,
a sea of insidious, unknown and black dots.
And what we don't know about the master mind is,
if the idea of disguise was a good one of his.
Because a walk through the ocean, is a feeling to me;
protruding dark days, and dead thoughts to see.
A future, in which the dead sea be right,
caught up, amidst, the industrial sight.
Our school of heads, a risky bald gloom,
resembles the friend, with a prison tattoo.
And what they said, that must be untrue;
school will always be there for you!
A/N-------------------------------------------------------------------------
A poem about the school, and my final thought on how its system has not been good for me or others in a sociable way. My idea of it, and how I perceive walking down the corridors every, single, day.
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Congestion
Poetry#24 in meaningful May 2019 - This book is a collection of some of my best works of poetry, as said by others who have read them on separate sites. I have written over 400 poems, these are some of the good ones. I try to make my poetry meaningful for...
