Now You Know

[My first "serious" poetry, wouldn't have done it unless was homework. I copied it straight out of my homework, so hopefully said programs (there are supposedly programs that would comb through the web to find if we plagiarized our homework from somewhere, nice lie) won't find this and cause me to have a conference with my teacher... I highly doubt it though.]


Born crying,
Without a dream,
And without a goal,
But my life went on.

Made troubles,
Sometimes silly,
And sometimes severe,
But they asked for it.

The water wasn’t friendly,
So weren’t the diseases,
It was a treacherous journey,
But I survived.

I fret,
I weep,
And sometimes curse,
When told to describe myself.
Perhaps I'm a still stranger to myself.

And The Torturing Begins

It felt like it was just yesterday that I was awoken by the sound of my radio and swore because of sleep deprivation. It was just last year that summer actually felt like it took three months to pass, but this year it went by so fast that it felt as if I’ve gone to bed on the first day of summer break and woke up already to a new school year. To whoever that is controlling the passing of time, please don’t mistakenly hit the fast forward button again next year.

Even though there was a million reasons for me to just shut the radio off and go back to sleep, but the routine must continue. As a creature of habit my morning was always the same, and it never would change. I woke up, got dressed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast, and rushed off to my bus stop. I assumed that no one was going to be at the bus stop and I’ll have to stand there all alone by myself, but for once I was glad to be wrong.

Happiness overcame me when I saw my friends. I was expecting them to look somewhat different like how it had always happened, but puberty failed me expectations. I should’ve known that by the time when people made it to the last year of high school, they would’ve grown out of it and stop changing at such rapid paces. People looked the same, teachers looked the same. Other than the two different teachers I’m stuck with for the year and the congestions the new guys created in the hallway, nothing else hinted the beginning of a new school year.

The new guys reminded me of well, me. The confusion, the fear, I know it all too well. But I’m a senior this year, which gave me the right to slap the books off of the little children’s hands and walk away laughing or perhaps trip them up and gift them a few smashes in the face. I’m sure they will appreciate that, right? How can a decent human being deprive one of happiness and self esteem?

Oh the ironies.