I stand in the hallway,
avoiding all the crazy bastards
goofing off as usual
and avoiding all the girls
spilling the tea on juicy gossip.
I look around.
A fight hasn't happened yet...
or so I thought.
A guy punches his victim,
fists pounding on his stomach
as I watch in horror
when I realize
he was spilling yellow guts of
a pineapple!
The adults drag him away
from providing more abuse
to the poor pineapple.
When I look at the ground
and find a yellow mess,
I would later wonder
what it would've been like
if he has a pen. ;)
YOU ARE READING
Love, Loss, and Life
Poetrya collection of poems about my sixth grade year. no identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred. Love. Loss. Life. These are the three things that have been thrown at me...
