friday

hey its friday and im bored...
oh and the nyo people are coming
man im bored in study hall
so yeah i think i better go..
ok later
yo
bye bye

the poem thingy outside

crunchy, vividly white
flakes of snow gliding down
numb and cold from
the ocean breeze
fresh flakes falling every second
creating new piles of hills
scattered across town
creaky old houses fill the spaces between
the new
rustling old grass swooshing
to the beat of the wind
cold but warm
hair flowing
knees knocking
and the ice flows