POEMS:
Bus Girl, Care, How Are You, Just Another Poem, Regret, The Shop Keeper
(BY THAD)
BUS GIRL
I’ve seen you on the bus before
Your stop is by the grocery store
We’re always going the same way
I see you get on every day
I see you again heading home
When I step on, you sit alone
But I just choose a distant seat
Wondering if we'll ever meet
When we walk home our separate ways
I look forward to the next day
We always ride at the same time
But still, it's like we've drawn a line
You sit in front, and I in back
I stare at you, you don’t stare back
The seat next to you, always clear
But I still always sit back here
We’re dropped off yet again one day
I’m not walking my normal way
Instead I want to follow you
To get a better point of view
I now go down this other street
Keeping behind at least ten feet
Until I see you go inside
Well now I know where you reside
I know what I’m supposed to do
Tomorrow I’ll sit next to you
Maybe we’ll even start to talk
Before the bus gets to your block
I know where you’re about to sit
So I pick the seat next to it
Since I’ve watched you for months I know
That this front seat is where you go
It’s been so long, now finally
You’ll soon be sitting next to me
You stop, we make brief eye-contact
Instead, you take a seat in back
CARE
I always thought, "Why should I care?
No one else does, life isn't fair."
My past friends have stopped being nice
No one to turn to for advice
I'd cry myself to sleep because
I'd sense how empty my life was
And spent many hours in bed
Wondering why I wasn't dead
Nobody knows the pain I'm in
Because of my misleading grin
But I was just as much a fool
When you were acting calm and cool
You told me crap that you've gone through
And I have faced some of it, too
But I'm not sure of what to do
When some of what I hear is new
I want to help, but I am scared
'Cause previous friends haven't cared
But something's different, something good
That tells me that I really should
In you, there's something very rare
Because, now, I will always care…
But actually, there's nothing new
Because you made it clear, we're through
This poem wasn't all complete
Until you said we couldn't meet
I cry myself to sleep because
I can't believe how wrong I was
I didn't think we wouldn't last
Now opportunities have passed
You really hurt me, I must say
By throwing all our time away
From now on, I'll just expect lies
Since I don't want to be surprised
You say it's better I'm not there?
Well, let me tell you, I don't care...
And then I heard about your death
I'm sorry you were so depressed
That you committed suicide
I guess you kept it all inside
And now I have to cry again
Because we couldn't be good friends
But now it's too late to forgive
Since you decided not to live
I can't stop feeling really bad
I wish I hadn't been so mad
And if you were alive today
I would do things a different way
You may be gone, but now I swear
From this day on, I'll always care.
HOW ARE YOU
How are you?
"I'm fine."
No, they're not fine
They just don't speak their minds
What you didn't know
Is that he goes
And cries home all alone
Bet you didn't guess
That he's a mess
And can't relieve his stress
Looking through his eyes
You'd realize
It's just a big disguise
They don’t want to share
They know that you don’t care
Every time you say
So how are you today?
How are you?
"I'm fine."
No, they're not fine
They just don't speak their minds
Something you don’t know
Is he is slow
And his test scores are low
And you wouldn’t guess
That he can’t rest
He slaves to be the best
Look into his eyes
And realize
It's just a big disguise
They don’t want to share
They know that you don’t care
Every time you say
So how are you today?
How are you?
"I'm fine."
No, they're not fine
They just don't speak their minds
Also, you don’t know
That she’s a ho
And her pimp has a fro
You could not have guessed
That she’s depressed
About her sleazy quest
Look into their eyes
And realize
It’s just a big disguise
They don't want to share
They know that you don't care
Everytime you say
So how are you today?
JUST ANOTHER POEM
As usual, I am alone
And nobody else is at home
My mom is staying late at work
My dad's just out, being a jerk
I'm not like most people at all
Because I don't have what you'd call
A social life, or anyone
Who finds things, I do, somewhat fun
So I just sit there, bored as hell
Mentally, doing less than well
I look across the street and see
The park I walk through frequently
And so I walk across the street
Hoping there's someone nice to meet
A few hours later, it's dark
So I go back home, from the park
Upon returning from my roam
I see my mom and dad at home
Then they ask me, "Where have you been?"
I answer, "At the park again."
Then they respond, "You should have wrote,
A little, 'I'm at the park' note."
"Now go to your room," they both say,
"And don't come out till the next day."
I counted guns instead of sheep
To try and get myself to sleep
Perhaps a nice, long book to read
Should kill a chunk of time indeed
Seven pages later, I sighed
Cause I still wasn't satisfied
I needed something else to do
And didn't have a single clue
In here, there isn't that much room
So I decide to clean my room
Attempting to get organized
I found some stuff, to my surprise
Along with a few dirty socks
There's folded papers in a box
Some of them have a couple rips
But you can tell they're comic strips
At least one hundred that I made
Most, during classes, in 8th grade
A few were from the 9th grade though
I look them over, thinking, "Woah."
Then I flash back into my past
Where I remember drawing fast
Usually finishing a bunch
In 4th period, before lunch
But most of them, I drew at home
Locked in my room, always alone
I wrote stories and poems too
When I had nothing else to do
On weekends and at summer time
I'd spend hours finding a rhyme
Hoping, upon return to school
That people would think I was cool
I thought that I could gain some fame
And have everyone know my name
But I would just made myself sick
By being way too prolific
I thought that I would get respect
For my patience and intellect
I kept writing for all to see
My awesome creativity
But I just got depressed instead
Since most of my work went unread
And all my wrist and finger pain
As caused by writing, was in vain
Side effects from isolation
That's how they saw my creation
But, damn it, that's not what I planned
While hunching over, pen in hand
But then I think…wait
My thoughts are starting to sound great
So, in this room, alone at home
I'm writing just another poem
REGRET
Make me
Take me
Your room, your bed, your body
Lay me
Play me
Can't feel my virginity
For you it was fine
You explored uncharted territory
But I was in line
Didn't get to have the same luxury
Empty fantasy
The reality
So far from my dream
I'm unable to forget
That one and only day we met
And just when I think that I should not regret
That I should learn from it
And not dwell on this one memory…
The past keeps coming back to haunt me
Comfort
My hurt
With your love and company
This curse
Gets worse
You flee from my honesty
I hoped that your care
Would fill up this hole I have in my heart
But now you aren't there
And the hole's so big, it tears me apart
You had to leave me
My impurity
Was all you could see
I'm unable to forget
All that time together we spent
And just when I think that I will be all set
That I'll get over it
And just look back with fond memories…
The painful past returns to haunt me
And just when I think that I should not regret
The past comes back over and over again
I'm always sorry, but never forgiven
Can't seem to rid myself of disappointment
No matter what I do, it seems I can't win
I tell myself it will pay off in the end
Why aren't the others in this same position?
That's the price I pay for having a conscience
THE SHOP KEEPER
Well, damn, it happened yet again
Another burglar came on in
He seemed like he was having fun
As he robbed my shop, with his gun
That good for nothing piece of trash
Punched my face, then stole all my cash
And while I'm bleeding on the floor
He laughed real loud and left my store
He even took the car I had
So I walked home, extremely sad
I got to my house, real depressed
And so alarmed, I couldn't rest
I hated my horrendous life
Stared at my wrist, picked up a knife
And figured it was best to die
Looked in the mirror, said "Goodbye"
I thought a bit about my frown
And actually put the knife down
I had too many skills to die
All I needed to do was try
Although I'm not a good fighter
I might do well as a writer
An artist or filmmaker, too
So that's what I was born to do
No longer will I need these pills
I'll just use all my art and skills
Tomorrow, I'll begin my plan
To be a rich, successful man
The shop keeper went back to work
He knew that he was not a jerk
And he intended to show them
But another robber shot him
The shop keeper died instantly
While that criminal got off free
Because a lot of folks just said
"It's likely he made himself dead"
"He always seemed severely sad"
"Just look at all the stress he had"
No one found how he really died
They all assumed a suicide