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I walk around my little suburban town with hope tucked away in my heart. But this hope is tested by the deconstruction of Art Galleries for Valeros.
Two years stuck in the same chair, On the same computer, On the same website. Two years speaking to the same people, To the sane adults, To my insane self. Two years of homeschooling,
It’s funny to think about school, and how the goal is to prepare you for the real world. To mold your mind with a strict curriculum so you can be imaginative and think for yourself.
Who do you want to be? Half-truths, An uncomfortable smile, A fidget. Am I supposed to know? What do you want to do now? The question I've always yearned to hear-to answer.
I'm not really the best at writing poems about school I'm better writing about the person I like, the one I'm probably going to ask to homecoming but maybe not since I'm scared.
Little children in little clothes walked into school with eyes closed and all they ever needed to learn in Kindergarten went in one ear and out the other. Teachers smiled and teachers cried.