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Sitting in a Metal Chair

February 14, 2014

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I wrote this little number in the back row of my Physical World Concept class, which by the way, should not be considered a real class. I wrote this from the perspective of the youth in a general sense.

Sitting here in this metal chair welded to the desk, I cannot clearly see what this world means to me. Of course there are people, places, and incredible things to see. But what do those this mean? Is this world just full of people, places, and things to leave?

Sitting here in this metal chair welded to the desk, they think I am worthless, just another slacker in the back row, snorting coke. They don’t really know me, for my words don’t penetrate their own barriers.

Sitting here in this metal chair welded to the desk, the men that run this country don’t make us feel fully blessed, because quite frankly, they could care less if a child makes it through high school.

Sitting here in this metal chair welded to the desk, I sit back and watch all the violence and carelessness grow like weeds between the sidewalk cracks. They will always be there, but very few will notice until their vines have taken over the whole path.

Sitting here in my metal chair welded to the desk, the people of this world don’t understand. I don’t sit in the back row because I’m some loser looking for the next high. I sit in the back to find the meaning of life, to see the world from a bird’s eye view. I try so hard to see the world from an unbiased point of view, but it gets so much harder to pull the cotton from over your eyes, when the rulers of this world have glued them shut.

Sitting here in this metal chair welded to the desk…
I’m snapped back to reality as my teacher asks me what I’m staring at. I take a big breath ready to speak. But the words disappear. I muster up my courage and just reply,
“Nothing.”

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed, if not… I’m sorry? Don’t hurt me. Please.

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