Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

That Fateful Day

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“Today is a good day,” I said.
No tests or quizzes, of which I knew.
I was content—shining like a diamond when it’s new—
Till the freshman dropped her English anthology on my head.

Stars flashed before my eyes,
My voice jumped, full of surprise.
I thought some things that I would never have said,
The day the freshman dropped her English anthology on my head.

She told me she’s sorry; I told her its fine,
While thinking of ways to make her feel the pain that is mine.
She rushed off to lunch to wait to be fed,
That stupid freshman who dropped her anthology on my head.

I pondered of ways to get back
At that freshman; perhaps her pigtails I will hack.
“Kill them with kindness,” my grandmother said.
But that freshman dropped her anthology on my head!

I thought of all the glorious ways
To make that lowly freshman pay.
She will have wished she had stayed home instead
That day she dropped her anthology on my head.

I touched the lump that was arising on my face;
I thought of how I needed to leave this place
To go home, to sleep in my own bed,

My conscience told me that when she is my age,
She will probably be stuck in the very same cage.
She will have to deal with, in my stead,
The freshman who dropped the anthology on her head.





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