Student Spectrums

Up and up he went, 

Down and down he went.

All these people in a metal bird,

Stories the boy was excited to see.

But as he left,

The people he left behind yelled, 

The Socratic mind argued:

“You’re stories are over, 

I had nothing left.” 

They silenced from that,

Lingering.

The boy was Atlas,

As days past he wouldn’t,

He couldn’t,

Admit a new home.

Yet it happened,

Routine set in. 

These new people,

How dare they say,

“We are the forgotten’s same”?

The boy waited like Sisyphus,

The snakes to shed their skin.

They didn’t, 

For they weren’t snakes.

The boy sees now,

These people, 

They are Anew,

But the Same.

The boy now sits,

In somewhere new,

But it feels the same. 

It’s like he never, 

Even left.

Two places and two peoples,

Anew, but the Same.