Yelling all around,
Drama spreading.
Boys.
Crushes.
Slow dances.
Secrets.
Personal, private secrets.
Disrespected.
Told. Unguarded.
Unprotected. Uncared for.
Rumors spreading.
Tears:
Streaming down my cheeks.
Down the cheeks of my friends.
Of my buddies.
Of my now-crying pals.
All of us, hurt. Torn.
And the boys.
Cute.
Hot.
Stupid.
Just standing there for us to look at;
To admire.
Yet only,
From a distance.
We still wonder
What it would be like
To be free.
To be perfect.
To be liberated from everything.
No more drama.
No more boy problems.
No more yelling.
No more heartbroken tears.
But those are all just fantasies.
Just dreams.
If only,
They could come true.
(Editorial commentary: Nothing like letting your feelings and thoughts out in a healthy manner! I love the rhythm, word choices, and the thoughts shared in this poem. Congratulations, Dana!)
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