pounding my brain is pulsing

it hurts your words flood in one ear

out the other

a drug that isn't addicting yet just as awful

eyes droop heads sink

“pick your heads up and pay attention”

how can i when i’ve spent all night doing the work you assigned me

the ink of my pen smeared with my sleepless nights

and strangled breaths crushed by the weight of my backpack

and you expect me to focus?

the only sleep i get is against my textbook as a pillow

waking up at 6 to make myself look presentable because otherwise

i look sick

i am, we’re not ok but if they see that

then they won't be able to escape 

what they're doing to us

their denial hangs heavy in the air

so thick i could swim in it yet

at the same time i can see through that very thin veil where they’re hiding the truth

even in my dreams i see red marks on my essay

B+ haunting the corner of the page

like the ghosts

i used to fear under my bed at night

when did average become failure?

boredom battles any will i had

college is the only motivator

study hard to get there 

once a star but by then you’re burning out

still you study harder to get a job working a 6-9 at a call center

scraping by to start a family, hoping to give your kids the opportunity to live the life

you wish you lived while you were too busy buried in your homework

by the time you realize all that you missed, all that you could've done,

your bones are cracked

skin weathered and rather than smile lines against your lips

there are creases from hours of crying

under your eyes

you’re just as tired as your youth

close your eyes to sleep and you may never wake up

stuck in a nightmare cycle where you’re back in those wooden desks

you worked so hard to escape

you’re not writing with ink but with blood,

waves of sick down you you scream but “you’re being dramatic”

“you're just ‘lazy”

It’s in your heard and when you finally open your tired eyes

you’re greeted with a grating voice telling you school isn't about grades

its about learning

yet really all anyone ever sees is if your gpa is a 4.2 or 4.0

breathing blends with everyone else as you shove 

your way down the halls to cramp your hands

for an hour writing notes you’ll never use

we don’t go outside we’re chained to these chairs

and you have the audacity to laugh and complain about teaching 

2 periods back to back

i learn 6 periods back to back

every day

gray walls and tiled floors this place is a prison disguised as a school

our orange jumpsuits in the form

of navy polos and too short skirts

you talk and talk and talk at me

try talking to me

for a school so focused on well being, you sure as hell

don’t care about mine

as long as i don’t cry its fine

you’re still able to deny

keep up with your lies

and it might work with my parents

but you and i both know

your words go in one ear

and out the other