Students often have strong feelings about school due to having intense feelings of academic pressure, fear of failure, and excessive workloads, all of which can make learning difficult. Some students also face challenges such as bullying, boredom due to teaching methods, lack of control over their daily schedule, and uncomfortable or restrictive environments.
Reaching // Falling
Your face looks damp
as you take in the fire my wreckage has caused.
You packaged me with a time-stamp,
not expecting it to come self-caused.
I’ve done the writing,
I want to scream.
You’ve done the backbiting,
but you just say you were blowing off steam.
How many more will you lose?
I watch you crawl across the halls,
a shell of your former self.
I wonder what befalls,
the person who forgot themself.
My hands shake
as I turn and touch golden rays,
the feeling of daybreak
sets the fields ablaze.
The Thin Line
I’m walking on a wire.
One so thin I think I’m going to fall.
Fall
Fall
Fall
And never get up again.
The brown platform brings comfort,
but is so far away.
My legs are shaking.
My arms are drooping.
The weight is the world.
The audience a single eye pining me in position.
My uniform feels restricting,
choking me, killing me.
The line is so thin,
I think I’m going to fall if I succeed.
The line is so thick,
it’ll be enough to hurt my pride.
If only I could fly.
If only I could balance.
Maybe then the sound of the lye
wouldn’t have torn down the palace.
Blooming Trees
The mirror wavers
as feet pound through the glass.
The reflection changes.
The emerald of the young cherry tree
is now a blushing pink.
It promises of sweet summers
and laughters of tomorrow.
Days when neither they nor us had
neither pride nor care.
But what does a fleeting call know?
The powder of clouds follows.
Constantly changing,
shifting,
interacting.
The mirror is unclear,
but the calls are loud, demanding.
There is no moment where they can catch a breath.
A hand reaches out,
rough, but grounding in the calling.
A golden sprout breaches the ground.
A single song of change.
Winds Blow Through These Bitter Mountains
Skin rubs red
as I continue to climb the mountain.
The wind howls loud,
Demanding to be answered.
Skin cracks
as I freeze a little more each day.
How much further do I have to climb,
before I see the setting sun?
I wish to run my fingers through blades of gold,
bare feet pounding against the ground.
I’m tired of this climb.
It’s getting colder every night.
With no light in sight,
there is no hope in my view.
I wish to see the end,
but I am just a man whose body is getting closer to the ground.
Closer to a foreign land,
that reeks of forever bitter cold,
no more summer,
no more promised you.
