F**k Grades

This ain't living

F**k the grades,

I don’t need them.

No more guidelines

telling me what to

write.

 

F**k feeling like s**t

twitching through sleepless

nights pushing to

finish a bibliography

that I don’t give a

s**t about a day later.

With the only keepsake

of these essays being the

score I shout out to

everyone, if it’s good

of course, so they can

smile at me and tell

me how great that it is.

 

It’s not great,

it’s not human,

it ain’t living.

It was the drunken nights

the gigs, the plays, the lessons

where we actually discussed

s**t that I felt alive.

Where I could talk to

people without the stress

and fear that I’m disappointing

someone else.

 

True bliss is selfish like that,

you only feel it when you

stop caring about everything,

throw your head back

and howl into the night.

You never stop to think

for anyone else

they can either join or

move on.

 

There’s no future in these feelings,

no marriage down the line,

kids in your eyes or

family home but

there’s so much more

 

There’s a pulse through

your body that rises

to a scream that rings

through you.

 

F**k hairs raising

on the skin and

hearts out your chest,

this feeling pushes

out your gut, shoots

out your throat and

explodes from your soul.

 

It’s f*****g in club toilets,

sprinting in a cold park,

leaping off a bridge

throwing yourself into dark.

 

F**k your phone,

f**k your wallet,

find them tomorrow,

keep riding now,

go until you stop,

until your body’s

shattered and your

hearts burst an

don’t stop for

anyone else. 

Reviews

[Lex12]

I feel the exact same way. We can relate to each other a lot loll. I love your poetry.

[Relic's Bare Trees]

The problem comes later when employers look at your grades. Life sucks sometimes.