we go left, we go right, we go forward, we go back, the ways of thee high school will not change. Boring, same kids, teachers, work, ride, practice. The routine repetitive. Again again again repetitive as a single drop of water drip, drip, drip drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip. Until somebody turns the faucet and lets us free. Free as the birds in the sky. Able to fly anywhere never boring, never the same, and never having any repetitiveness. New like a baby, or a death something that hits you where you least expect it. Life is as repetitive as the high I go to every day, as the work I do, and as the practices I do. Get used to it I am told day after day, time after time, line after line, in this huge play of mine... and yours..... and his.... and hers... theirs... we go left, we go right, we go forward, we go back, the ways of thee high school will not change like this poem. Boring, same kids, teachers, work, ride, practice. The routine repetitive. Again again again.... The only thing changing is Me.. myself... as I look inside I see repetitiveness as well.