Open Up

December 18, 2007
By
Frustration fogs his head,
As he lays in pieces on his bed
The pressure of school
The pressure at home
The pressure of friends
They are the bills he pays,
For the good things ahead.

She, on the other hand,
Makes it look simple.
No grimace, just smiles;
The kind with a dimple.
But little do we know,
She is falling farther then him.
For keeping it to herself,
Is her only whim.





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