Living under September skies,

Hoping the months go by.

Leaves fell dry-

Every step made was a school house day.

As you sat there,

Watching and listening...

To the rumbling of feet,

The chatter of adolescent-toddlers,

Morning bells,

The slam of lockers and locks being locked...

This is was just high school.

While you were the sharpest broken tool,

As your "friends" questioned your lucks, and stole in your lives.

High School was but a joke,

Yet again we keep laughing.

As everyone's had their share of hope made disbelief.

From Johnny smoking weed in the bathroom,

To Jaylin missing her period while receiving a queasy bumps-

To Dan hiding himself in the closet of love,

Or Katie going up and down in a land of crimson rivers.

An awful operation made of sleepless days and times,

To the 720th day when our principles degraded us.

I'm sorry but it's a long way back from 17, and 18 is but a fever dream.

Life's a knot in the tangled mess of 12 years oppressed in the system called by itself.

So don't take it out on others for the roads divided to shown to be one sided.

In a twister of rough candy caned dreams but with a hard reality of sadness.

To give in to the system of adulthood as we attempt to Peter Pan the never land of being 17.

To old September’s children...