I know this is a really long poem but please I'd appreciate comment or ratings.
FYI This was an assignment for a class and we had to use weird words.
This is the environment of a typical school:
Everyone pretty much seem the same,
Like a bunch of ampullae of Lorenzini,
Always rushing to get somewhere.
But if you look deep into this crowded place,
You'll se a phantasmagoria of differences.
There's always the slinkster kids,
Who pogrom the kids who don't fit in.
It may be that they are fubsy,
Quiet, too nice, or too true,
And consequently stand out in this place
Where everyone's eyes are hungry for perfection and looks.
Some of these beautiful people may be ugly inside.
Hearing the maleficent ones talk
Is just like phlegm flying out of a rictus.
Their words are nonsensical and mean
Yet they're the ones on the rostrum,
Always ready to talk back and speechify.
The spotlight shining like a corona around them,
Only fueling their euphoric ways
And reassuring them they are the best of the best.
Not all of them are mean.
Some grow out of that and realize the truth.
Yet some stay the same ruffian.
Never stop hurting the so-called misfit
Nagging them like a gendearme.
They have tons of attitude and when they don't make fun,
They keep away because they're too cool.
On my way to class in the zephyr,
I see the little groups walking along,
A girl talking to another in an akimbo position.
In this cacophony, those who scream aren't heard.
At lunch, the division gets even worse.
In this miasma of a cafeteria,
We sit divided into groups and territories,
Where no stranger can enter.
The "in-crowdâ" would probably use moth balls if they could
To keep all those nasty moths away.
Yet they don't know pain
And what it's like having a fistula
Burnt right through the heart and brain.
Or so it seems. But do they?
Sitting so close, yet worlds apart
Like a forest full of same various species
Where everything is simply nature
And at the same time very complex.
Pickerelweed on one side,
Lovage on the far other,
Because violet and green don't go together.
Segregation rules this forest
Therefore, two plants are kept apart
Due to what color is seen.
Marmosets and Wandaroos are enemies
For the beauty that is seen,
Means more than true beauty within.
The wonderful being hidden,
Becomes the unknown species.
Because the eyes are easily pleased,
Fooling the heart to believe.
This whole system is leaded by a king,
A pachyderm stronger than a Kodiak,
Who'll knock down any rebel in a blow.
In this cafeteria, this is also how it works.
You'll hear lies and rumors
Spreading rapidly like fire
Flying out of red lips like black dirty crows.
While eating, I hear a girl bitterly say,
"Oh, look at those girls! Showing skin
and getting all the attention! Such chintzy things!"
Another yells," You pygmy! Shut up!
You're nothing more than a simpleton!"
And knocks the nerd's tray down
Mercilessly, sending it to the ground.
While all of this is happening,
I can't help but think
Of how tormented I feel in here.
Someone, please!
Eruct in a way so loud,
It'll block all these annoying voices and sounds!
From all the annoyance I feel muzzy.
What, am I in some kind of loony bin?!
What an idiotic and scrupulous way to live.
When at any moment, without warning,
Death can come
To the pretty, kewpie, and the ugly,
Young and old African-American, white, or Kickapoo.
Whether you're a clean or slipshod person,
It won't matter cuz weâ??ll all end up the same.
In the end, we'll all be lying in a grave.
In the end, when it's too late...
To fix your actions and mistakes.
The cruel conch of death
Will get us all trapped.
The more popular ones aren't the only ones wrong.
We are all to blame.
We're all cast into the same blinding spell.
But only then will we see reality
Having to open our eyes in the darkness.
Now I wonder: will it matter?
How feisty or silent you were,
Your clothes and your hair color?
How many friends you had or not?
What about now?
How many do you've got?
Now that you know for sure
All you've really got is a soul left
Either to burn or lay to rest.
And the body you were so conscious of,
Is now dead and forever gone.
Are you still different from that outcast?
Are you still better than the rest?
Are you now able to see?
Do you finally agree?
Oh, now don't you wish you had
your mother's mammary to lean on,
Her gentle hand lathering your head,
While she sang you a berceuse song?
Regrets don't help when it's said and done.
The sub debutant can't get back her chastity
After she already gave it, it's gone.
Glamour turned into decaying flesh
And pride into simplicity.
Only then will the hating stop.
Finally, when it's much too late,
The phantasmagoria of differences will fade.
