Rachel Irvine written aged 13 Nightschool Empty classrooms pass by - Walls loom over deserted corridors. The usual buzz, gone, The classrooms filled with nothingness, The innocence is gone. Pencil to paper, Eyes to books. Simple things will never come - Not at night, Yet something queer is upon Drained teachers left to mark Someone else's mistakes. Not at night - No, absolutely nothing Will go. What's this emptiness? It's white at night Yet black in day Perhaps it could be myself inside - None shall ever know. |
