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Trembling hands,
Open doors.
Spitballs on the ceiling,
Gum is on the floor,
Paper airplanes smashed,
Under busy feet.
Boys,
Waiting on their girls,
Not me.
Girls,
Waiting on their boys,
Not me.
Bullies,
Waiting on their victims,
Not me,
Hopefully.
Lunch: its own story
Sitting alone,
Watching the rough guys,
Their girls in short skirts
Watching the bullies bully,
Their victims are helpless.
Nerdy kids,
Discussing plans,
Whispers above the voiced call of the crowd.
I leave those vile doors,
They haunt me,
They taunt me,
They mock me,
They send the wind to install in my ears,
A curse, a spell,
Welcome to Middle School



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