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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1465897
by Jack
Rated: E · Poetry · Teen · #1465897
A boy attempts to find a table at lunch
The bell tolls,

He strolls,

Into a cavernous room,

His face suggests a sort of gloom,

Hurtful eyes glare,

More eyes stare,

He scrambles through the procession,

fighting the oppression,

not a seat is left,

an ironic sort of theft,

his friends glance at him idly,

until one of them motions mightly,

to take a seat,

to come sit down,

There is some sort of hope,

left for mankind
© Copyright 2008 Jack (yorkdukes at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1465897