Terrace Bar Poem by Megan Haskins

None of this will matter soon.
Refectory. Rejectory.
5 more weeks
and it will all be over.

The lunch room drama.
All the he said, she said,
they did this, they did that.
Soon it won't matter
and all these everyday people
will be gone.

'Best friends for life' they promise.
But what is that based on?
Only what they have here and now.
No deep connection.
Scratch the surface and nothing is there,
just the empty school.

But these people will be disappearing soon.
We made it to the last 5 weeks,
we are the elite few.
They tell me it can only get better from here.