Torture Hall

It’s a weekday morning and the birds are just waking up. The students due to attend school have been awake for hours to prep their hair for the torments of the day. Cars pull up to the dark concrete and brick building, dreading the next few hours. It’s the last year in this torture hall, no more bumping into each other awkwardly. No more deciding witch group to join or what to wear to fit in. High school is like a torture hall masked by good intentions and filled with stressful situations. It’s the last year in this torture hall where the rest of your life will be decided by. Your grades will dictate your life if you fail there will be no respite. The world will try to drag us down, and make us scream and run. How long will it take till June arrives and the prom and graduation cheer us on to our new lives. We may hate this place now, but  years later we will find ourselves full of pride and back in that torture hall, to brag about who we are today. This is our reunion years latter after we have experienced life, but now we are back we are still stuck in our grad year haunted by our cliques. Life is based of this torture hall that we recall as school, in that place you learn to read and write and learn skills to keep you upright on this torture road of life.