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Yuppa
Young Unique People Persuing Anything
Ramah's Poetry
How's it Going?
Monotonous Mondays,
And sorrowful Sundays.
To put it bluntly
Dr. Huntley,
I am sick
Of this.
Turbulent Tuesdays,
Torrential Thursdays.
To put it plainly
Mrs.Dainly,
I am tired
Of this.
Weary Wednesdays,
And fretful Fridays.
To put it clearly
Mr. Pierly,
I have disdain
For this.
Sickly Saturdays,
Oh Ms. Stoker
I'm no joker,
I am done
With this.
To What End?
​
To what end Mr. Power?
What will you achieve?
When all you do is lie
Hate, cheat, deceive.
To what end Mr. Power?
Don't you think you'll be caught?
All the time spent will just leave you
Worn out, tired, distraught.
To what end Mr. Power?
Your morality makes me sad.
Can't you see it's pointless?
Wrong, questionable, sad.
To what end Mr. Power?
I'll leave you with this thought,
Is it worse to be forgotten?
Then to be remembered
Ridiculed and scorned.
Burning
Crashing
Feel the waves
You felt it too soon
Did you even get the time
To grow into full bloom
Crashing
Feel the tissue
Tethered to the bone
Try to mend it with time
Time will leave you all alone
Crashing
Feel nothing
Because to feel you must care
I just can't find the time
Although all I do is vacantly stare
Schoolbag
Bright pink schoolbag
And a curious attitude
Come across a car
And a gesture to refuse
But a seat is so tempting
And danger even more
He said 'where do you live'
She said ' yellow house, number ten on the door'
Rain droplets
And condensation
Spoils the view in the car
The engine has stopped
But her house is still far
Even though it was so tempting
It was not quite what she thought
He said 'hush don't speak a word'
She said 'sir, no' and they fought
Finally, she gets home
Tired and distraught
Motionless on the floor
No movement only thought
Rugged schoolbag
And a quiet attitude
She walks quite fast
And stares at her black shoes
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