Kellsy Barbee

School - Poem by Kellsy Barbee

I see a desk.
It's very old and used.
It helps me learn.
It helps me think.

Out of the corner of my eye a small freckled boy glances up at a screen.
Writing and pondering.
Behind him a class room of distracted children.
I hear them hum and the scribble of pencils.
I smell germ ex.
How long will this torture last?

Poet's Notes about The Poem

i wrote this sitting in class a long time ago and i just found it.

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 26, 2012

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