It is Not What It Looks Like

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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Submitted: August 29, 2013

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Submitted: August 29, 2013




The first day of school,

consisted of a mixture of emotions --

from crying children to those

who can barely sit still from all the excitement.

I did not quite understand those that wept --

especially some of the parents.


But my father did not weep.

He merely bade me farewell and

watched me go into the sweet,

mango yellow bus that

reeked of terror when I walked in.

But perhaps it wasn’t terror I smelled --

perhaps that was the fetid children;

with their onion scented body odor

and their burnt scalps from

marinating in sun.

Even cattle smelled better than us.


As I sat on the pungent seats

that excreted an odor resembling

wet socks, I noticed a little girl

with red rimmed round eyes,

that hiccuped as she stared

into my soul.


Poor Liliana appeared as if

she wanted to tell me something,

but her repetitive Porky Pig

impersonation kept her from doing so.

Perhaps she knew something

about school that I didn’t.


What if the grown-ups lied?

What if school wasn’t as fun as it seemed?


After I pondered on that bus

full of weeping children,


I cried too.


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