موسیقی is the only class I have with him. The longest class.
"Nick play that part of the excersice again." told our band teacher Mr. Bova.
No one argues with Mr. Bova, we all think he's scary.
"Why do I even stay in this class?" I sometimes ask myself. The fear of being yelled at? The fact that I loved playing the flute? یا Nick.... no I moved on! یا at lest I tell myself I did. I don't know what it is, his poping messy, curly blond hair, even مزید sunkissed than mine. یا the way he smiled to himself, his perfect smirk. I don't why I ever crushed on him.
Nick finished the part of the routine, his flawless routine. He's the best piano player in our class, always first chair. Mr. Bova's پسندیدہ we think of him, the perfect example. We got back to work,but then imediantly Mr. Bova was yelling at us that we got D sharp wrong.
During these brief scoldings I always glance at him. I shouldn't even try, when I look at him it always reminds me of that moment that I screwed up on. Besides, crushes come and go.... only his crush lasted for a سال یا so. But its definately over... I think.....
####
I'm a pretty antisocial person. No, I am antisocial of my middleschool, Carter Middle school. The place is a living hell for me. For some reasons.......... and ... others... but mostly, the kids are idoits and the teachers don't know anything about teaching.
Mrs. Carr the librarian is the only one who knows what she's doing. Mrs. Carr is a very experienced English teacher who was demoted to being the school librarian. Her little لائبریری is the only place to escape this wreched place that isn't crowded like the موسیقی room. I rushed to there before the rough crowds.
Before I even before stepped completely through the door I heard a joyful husky voice. " ارے little Ann."
TO BE CONTINUED
"Nick play that part of the excersice again." told our band teacher Mr. Bova.
No one argues with Mr. Bova, we all think he's scary.
"Why do I even stay in this class?" I sometimes ask myself. The fear of being yelled at? The fact that I loved playing the flute? یا Nick.... no I moved on! یا at lest I tell myself I did. I don't know what it is, his poping messy, curly blond hair, even مزید sunkissed than mine. یا the way he smiled to himself, his perfect smirk. I don't why I ever crushed on him.
Nick finished the part of the routine, his flawless routine. He's the best piano player in our class, always first chair. Mr. Bova's پسندیدہ we think of him, the perfect example. We got back to work,but then imediantly Mr. Bova was yelling at us that we got D sharp wrong.
During these brief scoldings I always glance at him. I shouldn't even try, when I look at him it always reminds me of that moment that I screwed up on. Besides, crushes come and go.... only his crush lasted for a سال یا so. But its definately over... I think.....
####
I'm a pretty antisocial person. No, I am antisocial of my middleschool, Carter Middle school. The place is a living hell for me. For some reasons.......... and ... others... but mostly, the kids are idoits and the teachers don't know anything about teaching.
Mrs. Carr the librarian is the only one who knows what she's doing. Mrs. Carr is a very experienced English teacher who was demoted to being the school librarian. Her little لائبریری is the only place to escape this wreched place that isn't crowded like the موسیقی room. I rushed to there before the rough crowds.
Before I even before stepped completely through the door I heard a joyful husky voice. " ارے little Ann."
TO BE CONTINUED
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Because I'm too lazy to type it again. :P I wrote this poem because I just graduated a school and it's really sad, and I do not like the idea of leaving all of my friends. I know that there are a few that I'll never see again. So I kind of vented about it through this poem. I hope it's good. Hgfan5602 is such an inspiration, so this is pretty much dedicated to them. I've always stunk at poems, and I haven't written one in ages, so I hope this will suffice as a decent piece of poetry.
Because I'm too lazy to type it again. :P I wrote this poem because I just graduated a school and it's really sad, and I do not like the idea of leaving all of my friends. I know that there are a few that I'll never see again. So I kind of vented about it through this poem. I hope it's good. Hgfan5602 is such an inspiration, so this is pretty much dedicated to them. I've always stunk at poems, and I haven't written one in ages, so I hope this will suffice as a decent piece of poetry.
Blake's horse Steel
