SOUTHERN MIGRATION

by ALYSSA

Will you miss me when I’m gone?
Soon, like the noon breeze
I’ll be gone.
I’ll be down south
in Arkansas
enjoying the trees,
but lamenting the loss
of these friends
who have stayed so dear to me.

Will it even make a difference when I’m gone?

Probably not,
but I gave my heart to this school.
Now it seems all for naught
because after a lot of thought,
I’m just cutting my losses.
I’m abandoning hope,
like all ye
entering here should.
Teachers to be gone,
rights to be wronged,
a future to be longed for,
and I won’t be one more number
lost in the chaotic throng.
Downpour:
raining tears hard
on my heavy heart for
this goodbye
because I didn’t make a greater difference.

Will my absence make a difference?

When I’m gone,
from here to conservative southland,
will my migration
strike heartstrings in the administration?
Course not.
130301
peace.