My foot hurts,
as a volcano eruptiong on me,
My foot hurts,
Well as lucky as can be.

It's as if a ton of elephants,
a gazillion of girrafes (and squirrels)
Were all on my foot.
Yes, all on that great foot.

It hurts every time I walk,
as if I turn a button for the stampede to run over it.
Yes, that's how it hurts.

Well lets start with something,
a stampede of what?
Of mountains, giants and houses,
oh yes, All on that weight and bouncing on my foot.

So, yes the zoo is kinda attracted to my foot.

A coin on a cliff,
a giant on a speck of sand,
two people side to side,
or the different personalities between you and me?

You,
and me,
and everyone in the world,
all adults,
all children,
all plants, 
all dogs,
all animals,
all foods (especially potatoes),
all paper,
all material,
all schools,
all buildings,
are different.

May I ask, 
What in the world is the same?

A paper, and an other paper?
No, nothing is the same.

Not the present,
nor the past,
not the future,
or time being.

Not the farmers,
nor the potatoes,
nor the iphones,
or the ipods.

Okay, 
this poem's getting random.

Shy?
Maybe.
Quiet?
No.

I am fed up of people saying,
that I am quiet and more.
They don't know my real world,
it is not all in a classroom.

I wish they'd shut up and they'd listen,
and they'd somehow understand,
that if you somehow behave in class,
you will get liked.

But maybe they're right,
maybe it is the opposite,
and the only reason why is,
because the only people they like are talkative!

The problem is,
they only know me in class,
and they never see, 
how talkative somebody as behaved as you or me,
can be.

I am not quiet!

A girl and a dragon swim in a sea,
as a giant wave comes crashing by,
as they suddenly emerge from the water,
willing to escape.

But freedom isn't all.

A giant airoplane comes shooting by,
and the dragon and girl,
dive until they crash onto a volcano.

The volcano erups,
but there is still hope into the other people's souls,
And they fly and fly,
flying to get away,
get away from their enemies,
to get back their freedom,
and to go where they belong.

Today...

I go to a museum, 
I draw some fossils,
I copy titles,
I decorate uneatness. 

I don't eat breakfast,
I starve,
I eat lunch late and quickly,
a boring busdrive.

I am late for homeroom,
I am late for sport, 
I am late for english,
I am late for geo.

I have my pictures taken,
which make me late for geo,
which makes me forget my geo book,
which makes me get all nervous.

I am late for Guitar Orchestra,
I have to eat while people play,
I get my hands all dirty with chocolate,
I can't find my mum.

I can't find my mum,
I run to get my bags,
I run back,
I am EXHAUSTED.

I get a shower,
I practice my hobby presentation,
I study for history,
I study for VOCAB,
I study for french.

I do piano homework,
I fight with my sister,
I eat my supper,
and I go upstairs.

That is my worst day as well as the day that all happens (this poem is completely true)