Bitter, cold.
Hidden in a room
He is
a critisizer.
He notices,
he judges,
he makes it
sound bad.
He is
A piece of paper
you can't fold.
You can't
tare it,
you can't
crumple it.
He stays flat
and straight.
He doesn't change.
He is
leaving again.
This goddamn
place,
this goddamn
school.
He is
standing
on that hill.
Yes,
the Thomsen hill.
He is
right there.
Shaking, shivering, showing
no face expretion.
He is
kicked out
from school.
The fifth school,
but his parents
don't know.
He doesn't mind,
he doesn't think
it's important.
He will go
go home.
He just
doesn't care.
great job! i could feel the intensity and .lack of emotion throuhout the poem, like i can feel it in the story. Nice! i love reading your things :D
ReplyDeleteI think its fourth school...And you spelled expression wrong.
ReplyDeleteWell those are the changes you will need to do and the goood part I adore from your poem is the part when you described Holden as a paper.
Very nice. Good thinking.
It really dragged the reader (me) in :)
Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuv it:D