in the halls of dusk

In corridors still, where shadows creep,  
Linger echoes of laughter once vibrant, now deep,  
The bell tolls softly, a weary refrain,  
As I tread through the halls, an unending pain.  

Here lies a kingdom of unkind dreams,  
Where hope twists in corners, unraveling seams,  
Rows of desks like tombstones in line,  
Whispered dreams buried in dust and decline.  

Each morning, the sun casts an indifferent glare,  
Through windows of glass, catching vacant stares,  
The chalkboards are smudged with promises spent,  
In lessons of life that the heart never meant.  

Faces blurred, like hastily turned pages,  
Each one a ghost of the world that’s outrageous,  
Eyes flicker like candles, dimmed by despair,  
Searching for solace, but finding just air.  

For who can teach love in a syllabus cold?  
Or nurture the stories that long to be told?  
Instead, we’re adorned in the uniforms grey,  
As dreams slip away like the light of the day.  

The lunchroom is filled with a chorus of sighs,  
As laughter is masked by the weight of goodbyes,  
Each friend like a phantom, each smile a mask,  
We wear in the silence the questions unasked.  

And the teachers march on, with their lessons in tow,  
Like soldiers on fields where no sunshine will glow,  
They wield knowledge like shields, but their hearts do not bleed,  
For they cannot see how our spirits have need.  

History’s chapters, they say, must be learned,  
Yet all that I feel is a fire that’s burned,  
For numbers and facts don’t fill empty souls,  
And dreams fade to nothing, like ink with no scrolls.  

Oh, to escape to the worlds forged in bliss,  
Where school’s not a prison, and every heart’s kiss  
Can resonate deeply, can flourish and thrive,  
But instead, we’re caught here, just barely alive.  

The final bell tolls like an echo through time,  
A promise of freedom wrapped tight as a rhyme,  
Yet as I step out, I find silence prevails,  
And the world beyond whispers only of tales.  

Of pressures and numbers, of futures defined,  
And the specters of shame that we carry in mind.  
For in these brick walls, we learned to suppress,  
All the grief that surrounds us, the cries of distress.  

So I stand at the borders of childhood’s cruel maze,  
Reaching for sunlight through a fog-built haze,  
But with every step farther, the echoes still call,  
In the halls of this school, I am trapped after all.  

Memories linger like shadows in flight,  
In the corners of dreams that elude the daylight,  
And I wander, still searching for hope’s distant spark,  
In this labyrinth built from the seams of the dark.  

If only I could plant seeds of my own,  
In fields of imagination where spirits have grown,  
But here among fables of rigid design,  
I am bound to the lesson, the loss, and the line.  

In the dusk of this school, where my heart aches to break,  
I dream of tomorrows that childhood can’t fake,  
And though today darkens with burdens we wear,  
I cling to the whisper that speaks from despair.  

For within every sorrow, a flicker will rise,  
With each tear that glistens, a yearning for skies,  
And though I may wander in shadows that loom,  
I shall carve a bright path, let love be my bloom.