A cocoon of misery,Entangled in the shackles of hate,
Of loneliness,
Of jealousy.
There goes the hunk of the class.
The stuff of 'girl talk',
The epitome of style,
The symbol of glamour,
Of good looks
And panache.
Wherever he goes,
Whatever he does,
Or doesn't do,
Whoever he talks to,
However pathetic his jokes be,
Those girls just can't stop giggling
At his jokes...
...or at me?
I turn my head away-
Can't stand his stupid antics.
But his goggles and her giggles
Don't go out of my mind.
No, they stay right there,
And torment me,
As the 'stached ringmaster torments the bull,
With a red piece of silken cloth.
I turn my head away-
And whom should my lonely, desperate gaze rest upon-
But the specky, witty smart guy,
Clad in striped t-shirt and cap
Covering his curly hair,
Talking to the girl I crush on!
I stare at the perfect pair
One has the perfect body, the other, the perfect brain
As I hang my head in shame,
And walk out of the class
The college- the country- the world...
Making a solemn vow
Never to be seen again.
I remember ever so vividly,
The glorious days of my school,
YOU ARE READING
Salt And Ink
Poetry(#1 in Poetry 14th November 2015- 14th December 2015) (5th in What's Hot- Poetry, 20th January 2016) Cover picture- grunge (WeHeartIt) "Prepared thus to close, he raised his knife, Death came later; he was stabbed by life." When my ballpoint buckles...