Stop swinging on that chair!

Daydream painting spilt, you glare.

Twins separated by millenniums.


Suspended on my junior chair

My finger barely touched the desk.

The classroom window framed

A silent, untold world

Floating through florescent lights

Reflections in a thunderous sky.


Only when my skull hit the floor,

Did I finally hear the classroom roar.

Feel the bloody red-orange paint tear

Down my matter-of-fact paper face.

Truth ~ a red rag smearing every last trace.

Humiliated bull!


Like Frost on his childhood birches,

I wish I could let you carry on swinging.


I don’t know what makes me feel more angry ~

Knowing the pain,

Or watching, helplessly, as you hear

The roar of the world over and over again.


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