The Catcher in the Rye

Away from the noise, and the smell of grass.
Waiting for some sort of feeling,
to come rushing in and help me out the door,
to a new life.
Kicked out, game over
again, and now the hemorrhages
will kick in.

My hands are freezing, the sky purple and looks like a water color painting,
the grass is wet and slippery.
The wind is like a thousand knives piercing through,
trying to get to me.
But I'm waiting. For the good-by, for something to come.

Old Spencer is waiting, so I leave.
Wanting to leave the crazy me,
the smoking, and the skipping classes.

I'm leabing all this behind;
Ackley, Old Spencer, Stardlater, and ths dump
that my parents put me in,
like the other three schools.
My touchy parents.
My brother,
who has so much fame,
he can let them slide through his fingers
like cins.
And then there's me,
with no clothes because of the thiefs, misplaced items because of the bullies, flunked classes and moving on.