
About my PE class, or rather the jerks that occupy the gym when I do.
Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Words: 162 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 05-23-11 - id: 2917334
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The boy that runs
Like a gazelle;
An overweight princess
Who dies her hair;
A child of four feet,
He likes to pretend he's not.
These and many others
Are killing me, the
Only ones that can.
They remain to be my
Raging fever,
My implacable sunburn,
My slowly stopping heart:
All of it
Is them, for
They are the ones that
Can be.
Five minutes between
Calling "Switch it up!"
Five minutes between
Deaths, one after another.
Five minutes, when
My heart begins racing,
My bugbites itching,
My throat scratching,
My skin peeling,
My fingernails breaking,
My hair falling,
My medicine failing,
The tears in my eyes burning:
It is all them,
The things they do, for
They are the only ones that
Have the power.
And at the call
"Balls up!"
My heart beats at a normal rate,
My medicine suddenly works.
I cease to be sick, and I
Stop dying;
"Balls up!"
Is all that can
Cure me.
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