Mon, 08/01/2016 - 19:22 -- Equell

In front of me,

A board triumphly stands,

Despite the bits and pieces of 

Words that stained its surface.

Each phrase a living memory,

Still trying to cling to the

Last bit of prescence it has to this class.


To my left,

Doors clink and clank

With the stomps of people 

Who so rudely use them whenever they please.

A hinge,

Covered in smuck,

Yet the door has no time to clean itself,

or atleast has not tried to just yet.


My Right,

Glows with the radient hues of yellows and oranges,

From the mere prescence of a loyal friend.

Looking at every direction,

I can hear his mind ticking,

His brains singing,

As his hand asks the pencil

If she would like to dance.


Behind me,

Lies the memories that i have so boldly 

Stepped over Pitfalls and Climbed the tallest mountains 

to forget.

May they never catch up to the pace

My legs are willing to take me.


Above my head,

Lays a huge cloud of ideas.

They furiously bouce off the walls 

Of my imaginary bubbles of thought,

Scurring as fast as they can to reach me,

Just to be notciced for a change.


Below me,

Stands a floor,

Who stands on the surface of wounded soil,

Who lays on the foundation that keeps this world intact,

While i stand above all of them.

One man may not do much,

But with a whole crowd of people the world is sure 

Outta Luck,

Because soon enough,

There wont be any ground for us humans to step on.










This poem is about: 
Our world


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