poetry · Uncategorized

When I Was Walking to my Class

When I was walking to my class,

I saw a young man there.

He was talking to himself,

and pulling on his hair.

He threw his book upon the ground.

(He only carried one)

Upon the bridge, he screamed and yelled,

It did not seem too fun.

He slammed the book again! AGAIN!

Until it was in parts,

then threw the book over the edge,

jumped too, and screamed: “my heart!

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