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I never pack a brown bag lunch
It's that special time of year again
when the smell of formaldehyde seeps out from under the doors of biology classrooms
and slinks down your throat like something you could have said
but didn't
and makes your stomach squirm
just enough
that you're not hungry anymore
and all you can think about is
how we're all just pigs for dissection
waiting for some kid to
make one more incision
quick snap of the ribs
simply because they were told to
poke at your heart
make you dance around
and you're sitting here inhaling death fumes
waiting for a friend that probably won't sit with you anyways
won't look at you anymore
because she is so scared
but can't admit it
she doesn't need to rip you apart to see
but she doesn't want to know
so she sits in the hall
(just sit this one out)
adjacent to the office
where you stand
and wait for her every day
even when it smells like crap.
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