Marching On

For four years you lived in a small bubble
One which enveloped and comforted you
From most of the wicked worldly rubble
But now in a few months your time is due
You are familiar with the soapy shell
And everything that lies inside of it
You know by heart the schedule of the bell
In class and in lunch you know where to sit
Yet this lifestyle has become a routine
To some it has even become a bore
Its because you already turned eighteen
And you see school as nothing but a chore
Which is why you have to pack and move on
Although its scary its good to be gone

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem