pride

school bus

Note: A poem I wrote today after thinking about that time on the bus. I hate him and this is my rage in poetry. Enjoy it, because I doubt he will ;)

We share the same bus.

I hate looking at the back of your head

every single fucking day.

I want to hit you upside the head

and pull out all that auburn hair.

And I hate the way you look at

me as you climb onto the bus;

you hold my gaze and don't speak.

You know you don't have to speak

to get your point across to me.

We've always shared that connection,

haven't we?

And I hate the way you make me feel;

like I was never good enough, like

everything you said to me was a lie and

I was just a major mistake.

We haven't spoken.

Just looks. Just glares. Just thoughts.

No words, no rolling tongues.

And that's okay with me, really.

I'd hate to hear your voice directed at me.

I think I'd throw a fist at you,

rip out your voice box.

I never want to hear a lie out of your mouth again.

-Dragonette