The Four Year Game

The game is called High School.

The prize--

my future.

Every move I make

everything I do

every grade I get

recorded on a score sheet.

The players are students

and teachers

and admistrators.

They can give me

a get-out-of-jail free card

or they can send me there.

 

This game can't be played

in a sitting.

And once you start

you can't stop

for four long years.

There are tricks

and there are traps

that can send you back

a million steps.

 

Those that prevail

are smart

and clever.

They know what to do

and what to say

and how to say it.

I don't know if I'm one of those players

till the end

of the four year game

They call High School.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741