8th Grade

Within this pen tumble the old school-days

Of lined notebooks and diet Sprite

Of carpet bleach and vomit

Arranging ourselves alphabetically at the door

 

My blue ink encircled the utter loneliness

That only a thirteen-year-old can understand

From sour and grinding smiles

Shot across the lunch table

 

The cafeteria din smothered my appetite

I brown bagged my self-esteemĀ and tossed it in the trash

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