I'm just hoping it doesn't suck as much as I fear.
(This was my response to an assignment by my English teacher to write a poem about the things that stress us out and what we do to relieve that stress. She prefferred rhyme.)
Heartache, The Handling Of
School,
the privilege and the curse
of those who can afford it,
holds my happiness
and I strive hopelessly toward it.
Look to standardized intelligence
and try to reach it,
but still there is a barrier
and I can’t seem to breach it.
And with every test grade that is
“only” double digits,
I’m let down even further
by my hardest efforts’ limits.
So I involve myself in things
I hope will give me merit.
Instead, I leave my self so overwhelmed
that I can’t bear it.
Yet even when I feel like I’m
about to fall to pieces,
there are still a few moments
when all my heartache ceases.
Like when I hear the songs that take my feelings
and convey them,
rest my hands on precious and neglected keys
and play them,
speak to those who know the words I need to hear
and say them,
take a pen and all my thoughts,
endeavor to array them,
bring it all to He whose comfort comes in saying,
“Amen.”
And even through the noise and hurt,
the frustration and mayhem,
these things will always bring me peace and take my fears
and stay them.
---
UPDATE: I changed the last line. I like it this way.
