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Torture
It’s loud, lonely and bright
I lose my friends in the whirling crowds and wild whimsy .
They’ve moved out of my sight.
No that’s wrong
I’ve moved out of theirs.
I hide off in the bathroom,
Where the dull thrumming of the music is barely heard
But my heart keeps up the fast paced dance.
I stay out of people’s way
Who stray into the bathroom
To playfully pass gossip as if it was a child’s ball.
I remove my contacts
And break both of the soft pieces of plastic,
Tears are the key,
and I grab it.
I tell Mom I want to go home
She’s worried and a little displeased,
It’s only been 45 minutes of torture.
I explain that my contacts have shattered,
She immediately is more accepting.
After stumbling to the car
In a blinded stupor,
I explain to Mom that the dance was alright until my contacts broke.
Really it’s the opposite,
The contacts were the only thing that made it all right.
When I get home
I collapse on my bed
My hair is still done,
My face is covered in make-up,
My dress is still on my limp body.
But it’s the most enjoyable part of this failed excursion.
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I hate school dances with a passion.