A/N: This is my first real attempt at poetry. I was inspired to write this during my study hall one day, looking around at the different people that I hadn't really noticed before.
Please review! Let me know what I can improve on for next time!


I take my seat at the back of the room, watching
As others like myself file in one at a time.
Some people I know. Some people I don't.
The bell chimes above our heads, like it has
For hours before this time, but is different
Somehow. No longer does its ring give sense
Of impending dread. Instead, a feeling of
Calmness sweeps over the room.
No grades. No lectures. No pressure.
This is study hall.

I gaze about at those around me, waiting as
The number in the room slowly dwindles.
Some leave for the library. Some for the computer lab.
I settle into my seat, earbuds in my ears and
My music playing on low. There are few of
Us left now. Occupied desks are scattered
Among the rows, their occupants withdrawing
Books and pencils from bags. Others, staring into space.
No work. No expectations. No interest.
This is study hall.

A girl to my left turns to speak to the girl behind
Her, comparing homework. I have the same homework.
Some of the answers I have. Some answers I don't.
They never ask me, I never tell them.
To my right, my acquaintance dozes, head against
The wall like a pillow. Usually we have quiet, random
Conversation before he puts his earbuds in and
Turns his music on loud. Not today.
No discussions. No insights. No melodies.
This is study hall.

My gaze wanders to the clock on the wall slowly
Ticking the time away. I pray time to slow so I can stay here.
Some classes I want to go to. Some classes I don't.
A group of girls in the corner laugh loudly;
I can hear them over my music. The teacher gives them
A look, but says nothing. Giving up on the homework, the
Girl behind the girl to my left goes to join them. Her
Friend watches with a jealous look. I smirk to myself.
No allegiances. No clinging. No arguments.
This is study hall.

I scroll through the songs on my playlist, looking
For the right choice. So many to choose from.
Some songs I want to listen to. Some songs I don't.
Ahead of me, a guy and a girl talk quietly
With each other. I see the look in his eyes;
He likes her, but she doesn't realize it. She's
Already in a relationship. He knows that, but
He can't help himself. How can he?
No comfort. No regard. No solace.
This is study hall.

I look up expectantly as the office monitor enters,
Carrying with her notes for a select few off us.
Some days I get notes. Some days I don't.
The few students that sit quietly doing their
Homework look up as well. The teacher delivers
The notes. She walks down the aisle, but
Stops short of my desk. No notes today.
Maybe tomorrow I'll get one.
No promises. No guarantees. No certainty.
This is study hall.

I am jolted from my musings as the bell
Signals the end of the period, the tone of dread returned.
Sometimes I welcome it. Sometimes I don't.
The others are awaked; the girl to my left forgets
Her jealousy. Her friend returns for her bag.
My acquaintance awakens, the girls in the
Corner stop laughing. The working students put
Away their books. As one, we leave.
No grudges. No misleadings. No animosity.
Thus ends study hall.