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Study Hall
Half way through the day,
when the end is drawing near.
I go down two flights of staris.
I sit.
The room's impending silence envelopes me.
The occasional squeak of desks and closing of books is a sound, that, in this frightenin quiet, is like the sound of a bullet piercing the air.
I sit. I work.
Suddenly, a clamor ensues
from various books, zippers, and squeaky desks.
four minutes left to the bell as everyone scurries like little tiny mice trying to get everything together.
I sit. I pack.
At last, the bell rings and whoosh!
I am gone.
I leave the hall of silence and enter the gregarious halway.
Gone is the eeire quite and the eternal gloom. I am done. Done with study hall.
I am free.
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This article has 1 comment.
I love your poem!! Now I want to read more.
Guess who?!? A friend from school! :)