Drowning - Poem by Whitney Stewart
I was 12 and this was pretty much my first poem ever.
Although the tears burn my eyes
I dare not let them drip.
I feel like I am falling and can
not get a grip.
I need your help can't you see?
Except that you are busy is
always your decree.
The ringing bell burns my ear,
for to go home is my deepest
In the morning I don't want to go,
you just say I have to though.
I want to smile but I keep
Help me, I'm drowning.
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