Her Old School

After school she throws on the floor,
her bag full of unfinished work,
her water bottle she drew on,
and her phone she needs to charge.

She puts there the feel of the radiator she sits next to,
the smell of school lunch being made,
the sound of the clock tic toking repeatedly in her mind,
the grass she sees in her head from the playing field.

On the floor goes the dark thoughts that go on under her hood,
the time she spent wondering what was on the board,
it was too far away,
the hours she spent worrying if the teacher was going to ask her a question,
she put that there too.

The floor,
she underestimates,
she thinks she only puts objects on it.

Every day’s end,
she throws down all the happenings,
good,
and bad.

Sometimes it gets quite heavy,
the floor doesn’t mind though.

It helps her,
It is her floor

-Agatha K