Kneel And Pray
Heels clicking, hips swishing
we walk
down
a
deserted
hall,
fluorescent lights flicker reflecting in shiny linoleum floors
teachers stand stiffly by doors,
searching for something,
anything,
in the throbbing mass that stands, walks, slides, dances
to their next class,
for another 45 minutes
of the counting down clock
tick
tick
tick
couples coyly kiss in stairwells,
avoiding prying eyes of the
lonely, lustful, jealous teachers,
this moment is theirs.
We find havens where we can,
hole ourselves away from that hideous
warehouse of flesh and metal surrounding us
hoping for heartache,
hoping for pain,
hoping for a break from that
tedious monotony that follows us like some slinking snake
threatening asphyxiation at
every
step
listlessly, we carry on
faking laughter, faking tears
we play the pretend game of the high school soap opera,
desperately,
futilely,
fighting with our own ever-present emptiness
like some great ocean storm that
circles the slick decks of our consciousness.
Lost and stupid
we kneel and pray for relief.
Carly Gove is a fourteen year old who someday will become a poet laureate.
Copyright © 2012 by Carly Grove
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