A book hidden beneath a desk
During lessons she's seen before
Keeping one eye on the page at her desk
Until the story becomes too engrossing to divert attention away
Then she is caught
Detention, for going ahead in class.
Yesterday
He ran a mile more than the others
And finished with the same time
As the rest
Never said a word
Then he was caught
Time-out, for making the others feel slow
Fingerpainting the wall behind the crib
And writingwordslikethis
Words like windmill, gorgeous
Psuedopsuedohypoparathyroidism
Yelled at
For marking up the wall.
One more word: ashamed.
Kurt Vonnegut wrote
For these kinds of humans
The kind who are a little bit more than the rest
The kind that the rest are eager to subdue
The kind they seek to tear down
they cannot understand.
CITEȘTI
Songs of the Soul
PuisiSimilar to one of my previous stories because it is about life, but different because this is poetry. Sort of.
