The summer has left me a broken shell,
now the heartache shall destroy me.
I look at the omnious clowds wondering,
when can I leave this house?
Dubious, the days shorten, yet the nights grow.
What use is night, if not to commit dark deeds?
all that is left is that white ball in the sky,
comforting night light to the world.
Routine again, back to the same learnings,
the same hours with the same idiots.
sat widling away, wondering,
why cant the summer come around all year long?
Yes, cliche it may be, but it is so because
all of us have felt it, yurning for friends,
nostalgic about those water fights,
days out with family, rolling around like your still 5.
I will admit this freely, I miss that feeling,
no routines, no responsibilitys.
I would swap all of the knowledge I have obtained
in this building, for a life of idiocracy.
Not knowing, and frankly who cares!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think you are talking about the world more so