Blank walls painted in color of boredom <br> whilest grey light pours in. <br> Shadows stretch up to the ceiling, <br> my own shadow is lingering on the edges of daydreams. <br> Next to me stands the foreboding wall, <br> and written upon its dismal surface <br> Are stories. <br> Etched in uneven graphite, <br> lie both insults and paltry comments. <br> Sometimes art and sometimes destruction. <br> Their voices are loud <br> and emotions young, <br> A mural of words devoid of sound. <br> Faint light paints, <br> my own emotion is pink- <br> On that wall of gray. <br> Words can't be read <br> without eyes to see. <br> Word can't be sung <br> without a voice to say them. <br> Stories meant fo the future to read, <br> memories for the past to experience, <br> and glories for the present to finish. <br> And it is all just graffiti on the classroom walls.