I had my first client today. I was to go to a middle school, and talk with an obsessive-compulsive child. Her name was Lucy Taylor. She was starting to be teased oleh other students. It was not right; it’s not as if she could help it.
I walked into the main entrance of the school. The halls were the color of dirt, the lockers a mucus green. I saw kids with name brand clothing going down the halls. As I walked toward the big sign that berkata Guidance Counselor on the front, I saw a group of kids. They were all against the left side of the hall. They were all dressed in black, most had long hair, even the boys. The kids looked like they were having fun. Until a jock came up to them. He gave them a once-over then spat the word, ‘fag’ at them.
My jantung squeezed, I used to be one of those kids in black that was called a fag in school.
“Hey,” I berkata to the football player. “That’s not a very nice word to say, and I could laporan you. anda don’t know what these kids have been though. Well, scratch that, anda do know. Most of the time it’s anda causing it,” the kid looked at me.
“I’m just being honest. Isn’t honesty supposed to be a good thing?” he asked sarcastically. He didn’t give a shit, and I knew it.
“Honesty is great, until anda make an pantat, keledai of yourself. Then, you’ll end up homeless, and alone, because they all hate you,” my fury from when I was in high school unleashed on him. I didn’t mean for it to, though.
“Whatever,” he walked away. My jaw clenched, and I took a breath. I despised adults, and the way they corrupted their children.
I walked past the kids in black. I felt their eyes on me as I passed. Then, I felt a small, cold hand on my arm. I turned. A petite, black-haired, blue-eyed girl stood looking up at me. I could see one thousand years through her eyes.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Thank you,” she said. She had such a tiny voice. I nodded at her, and then she turned back to the group. She was one of the kids in black.
I walked into the guidance counselor’s office. An older woman in a gray suit sat at a brown desk. She looked up at me with brown eyes.
“You must be Dr. Demidov,” she berkata standing up.
“Yes, and anda are?” I asked. She walked toward me, and held out her hand.
“I’m Mrs. Blake,” she shook my hand. The way her head tilted, I could see the gray streaking through her almost black hair. “If you’ll wait just a moment, I will go get Lucy,” she walked out of the room.
I sat in the chair, in front of the desk, looking around her office. Mrs. Blake’s walls were white, and pictures sat on her desk. There were some little kids, all smiling, with adults over them. Some looked happy, others stood with plastic smiles on their faces. I couldn’t help, but feel bad for the kids. They had to be raised in this plastic world. I vowed that if I ever had a child, they would be purer than any.
Mrs. Blake stepped in the room.
“Dr. Demidov, meet Lucy.”
I walked into the main entrance of the school. The halls were the color of dirt, the lockers a mucus green. I saw kids with name brand clothing going down the halls. As I walked toward the big sign that berkata Guidance Counselor on the front, I saw a group of kids. They were all against the left side of the hall. They were all dressed in black, most had long hair, even the boys. The kids looked like they were having fun. Until a jock came up to them. He gave them a once-over then spat the word, ‘fag’ at them.
My jantung squeezed, I used to be one of those kids in black that was called a fag in school.
“Hey,” I berkata to the football player. “That’s not a very nice word to say, and I could laporan you. anda don’t know what these kids have been though. Well, scratch that, anda do know. Most of the time it’s anda causing it,” the kid looked at me.
“I’m just being honest. Isn’t honesty supposed to be a good thing?” he asked sarcastically. He didn’t give a shit, and I knew it.
“Honesty is great, until anda make an pantat, keledai of yourself. Then, you’ll end up homeless, and alone, because they all hate you,” my fury from when I was in high school unleashed on him. I didn’t mean for it to, though.
“Whatever,” he walked away. My jaw clenched, and I took a breath. I despised adults, and the way they corrupted their children.
I walked past the kids in black. I felt their eyes on me as I passed. Then, I felt a small, cold hand on my arm. I turned. A petite, black-haired, blue-eyed girl stood looking up at me. I could see one thousand years through her eyes.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Thank you,” she said. She had such a tiny voice. I nodded at her, and then she turned back to the group. She was one of the kids in black.
I walked into the guidance counselor’s office. An older woman in a gray suit sat at a brown desk. She looked up at me with brown eyes.
“You must be Dr. Demidov,” she berkata standing up.
“Yes, and anda are?” I asked. She walked toward me, and held out her hand.
“I’m Mrs. Blake,” she shook my hand. The way her head tilted, I could see the gray streaking through her almost black hair. “If you’ll wait just a moment, I will go get Lucy,” she walked out of the room.
I sat in the chair, in front of the desk, looking around her office. Mrs. Blake’s walls were white, and pictures sat on her desk. There were some little kids, all smiling, with adults over them. Some looked happy, others stood with plastic smiles on their faces. I couldn’t help, but feel bad for the kids. They had to be raised in this plastic world. I vowed that if I ever had a child, they would be purer than any.
Mrs. Blake stepped in the room.
“Dr. Demidov, meet Lucy.”
hear my
unspeakable words,
those are screaming
inside my lost strife!
See me,
see it through my
frightened eyes,
those will tampil you,
those will defeat
the peace itself.
That peace,
well-known to you,
but not to me.
Not to me.
I've seen it only
in their eyes,
while mine were dreaming.
Grabbing my soul,
living inside,
the fear loves me more,
smiling to my faith.
Hear me,
hear those
unspeakable words,
those are living here,
praying silently,
crying sternly.
Hope is awaken,
but weakened.
Hating fear
and its cruelty,
it struggles tirelessly,
though fading...
Fading
along with
unseen dreams,
sleeping
along with sorrow.
The doors
are locked,
Sun is not
illuminating
my path,
not mine.
Fears sleep
in there,
loving my failures,
listening to my
unspeakable words,
those are prayers,
unseen dreams,
fear lives within.