poetry

[auriatetsukai.livejournal.com]

My parents made me go back to school. It's not at all different from when I left, except that people give me funny looks and I have a bracelet that lets me come to school with a different hair color and style every day. Birdie is here, and doing well--her family managed to get back together safely. Sarah is here too, and I haven't told her about meeting her mirror self. I think she'd stop talking to me.

Actually, I've stopped talking to people. It feels weird.

I'm taking Creative Writing. My teacher has high hopes for my work because he wants to hear all about the Dreaming War and betrayal and anger and mourning and everything else we did out there. We started a poetry unit. I think he's mad at me because all of my poems sound like this:

Not long now until
the sauce is done and we can
bring our friends closer.

He has no idea what it's about. He wants me to write about battles, not about Operation Luvdisc. Tough shit for him.

By the way, I hate that every poetry unit one does in school begins with haiku. Can't we start with limericks? Way more fun.

I haven't told anybody about my wish. Not even my parents. They don't have to know.