Old School

Sitting back in a broken

plastic chair, I spot the

phrase "#963" sloppily scratched on the

wall in Sharpie,

to mark the record for the amount of

cut classes.

Walking out into the concrete

halls, students play with

broken badminton rackets in the gym

and others fail to accurately calculate a question

due to rulers missing lines.

Old televisions hang in the corners of classrooms,

never to be used again except for the occasional VCR tape

and the copy machine in the library

that forces us to find untouched coins.

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