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School on Monday MAG
Fluorescent lights
Always humming
Like a swarm of bees in my head
Mottled floors hide the dirt
That scores of feet tramp in
And reflect the rectangles of watery fluorescent light
Pockmarked cinderblock
Drenched in white paint
Closing us in
Those weird ceiling tiles
With billions of styrofoam divots
Occasionally interrupted
By droning lights
Rusted radiators
Dilapidated beyond repair
Rumbling and rattling
Adding to the noise of
Fluorescent lights
Fogged up windows
Almost completely covered
By ugly blinds
But since the bleak dreary day
Holds no distractions
A sliver of scenery remains uncovered
If the day were sunny however
The gray strips would expand
And deny us any hint of sunshine
People say eyes are windows to the soul
Then what soul are windows eyes to?
The world's?
Nature seems pretty soul-like
The sky
The mood-dictating sky
Is drab and depressing today
Deflating the vitality of everything around it
So today the outside and the inside
Are depressed together
Which only makes it all worse
I can see the cars pass by
But I cannot hear them
When cue buses pass I hear the low rumble
Of their engines
I can also hear the constant whiz
Of 66
That I hear
Nearly every hour of every day
And the radiator
And that buzzing of the fluorescent lights
Only adds to it
Now chalk on a board
And the noise and bustle of voices and people
It never stops
And even when everyone leaves
And I am standing alone
On the shiny floor
Of the echoing deserted hallway
I can still hear the constant hum
Of fluorescent lights
I hate that sound
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