Four hours of tourcher have now passed.

The bell has now rung,

Everyone races to the lunch room.

Dashing and skipping to the front of the line,

Their eyes widen like a flower in the spring that blooms.

We get closer to get our meal, 

now its time.

One bite of this chicken sandwich that looks like heaven.

To only find out its under cooked.

And now my day has been ruined.




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