I sit in lunch thinking
How much I screwed up
How much I lied
How much I failed
How much I cheated
How much I want to go back and change some things
Now I sit in my class writing this
No rhythm, minimum of 10 lines and 3 poetic devices poem
I feel sick as if I have gone on all the rides in Six Flags

I sit in my basement thinking
How much I feel like throwing up
How much I just want to knock out right now
How much I want to go to sleep early but I can’t
How much I feel so screwed up
The more I think about it
I’m a load of dirty clothes washing in the washer
I’m that same stain that struggles to come out
But stays

Screwed, saccharine, sluggard, scintillating
Things that eventually describes me