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byTo him, the sky was blue.
The grass green.
An apple red.
He wanted to be an artist so the world could see his creativity.
But soon he was forced to attend school.
School.
To him, school was a funny thing.
A little square room
Full of little square desks
And he was forced to add
And subtract
And write
But never draw
Or sculpt
Or color.
Soon, to him, the sky
It was not blue.
It was grey.
The grass
It no longer had color.
An apple
No longer red.
He no longer had dreams of being an artist
He no longer cared.
He was taught that no one would care.
School
A little square room
Full of little square desks
And his imagination was no longer full of ideas.
It was a square
An uncolored square
With not his ideas, but the school's.
A square.
Written by:
14 June 2008
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| Posted by: I<3HORSEZZZZ 10 November 2010 | Comments: this is so true i love it! |
| Posted by: Jayd .J 4 November 2010 | Comments: this really speaks to me, i just fucking hate it when a teacher tells me to put down a really good book or put a drawing away. The teachers in my schools are a bunch of fucking bastards. |
| Posted by: Matt 7 July 2010 | Comments: You should write more like this, post them on triond.com and make some cash :D Yes i just said i liked this!~ |
| Posted by: Sarabi (freesleepy62 AT gmail DOT com ) 23 May 2010 | Comments: I could relate to this poem because that's how I was when I started school and I'm still like that: an artist no longer with motivation |
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