in a cookie tin
under my bed,
coated in tears,
lay the secrets
i've stored
and acquired
over the years.
sometimes it opens
and replays those forgotten.
like, i hate rhyming poetry
and shakespeare's 'romeo and juliet'.
like i hate punctuation and the grammar
and the english language im algemeinen.
in a cardboard box
at the top of my closet,
taped completely shut,
i store all the things that i love.
it's not very full, but
it's got room for more-
like my cats and chocolate
and my dad's coat
(which has been too big for me to wear
until just last week).
in a packing crate,
that takes up most of my room,
i've compiled a list
of all my problems.
it's been overflowing for years now.
in a large box in my room,
i store all my fears.
in a huge box in my room,
i store all my ideas.
in a small box in my room,
i store all my songs.
in a box in my room,
i store all my writing.
in a box in my room,
i store all my memories.
in a box in my room,
i store all the people i've met,
all the places i've been,
all the places i'd like to go.
in a room in my head,
i store all these boxes.
i pack them, and seal them,
and i leave them alone.
in a room in my head
i store all the things
that make me me.
but my room is just one
of the many in my house,
the humongous house in my head
where all the people
who live in me,
live in semi-peace and harmony.
i don't have the house key,
so i can't get back in.
i think i left it in my room,
under my bed,
buried in secrets,
inside the cookie tin.
YOU ARE READING
Stories from an Empty Classroom
NezařaditelnéThis is a collection of works that I take pride in from my creative writing class. Please feel free to leave comments and feedback because, as this is classwork, that is what I'm searching for.
