3 Edgy Poems I Wrote In High School That My Mom Found While Emptying My Childhood Bookshelf

At the very least you have to admit that I had a solid grasp on anapestic tetrameter.

There's no comparable feeling like that of receiving a picture message from your mother captioned 'hey look what I found in your room!' 

That wasn't the actual caption but, since my newly empty nester parents are vamping up the house in our absence, the caption was in the subtext.

Fortunately, what my mother found was something that I can capitalize off of: edgy teenage poetry.

I wrote this poetry in the tenth grade for an assignment on odes for Ms. Gerner's (now Ms. Bove) tenth grade English (not honors) class.

It should be noted that at this point in my life I had a lot of acne and was mildly distraught over the stretch marks I had on my back.

It should also be noted that after sneaking in a few swear words in my first ode "Ode to Adolescence" I received praise on the poem, thus leading me to carbon copy the concept for the rest of the poems.

Anyway, in the spirit of the 'roast yourself challenge' and my continuous road to self-improvement, let's look at some edgy poems.

(some light punctuation, spelling, and line edits have been made)

Colin's Odes

​Ode to Adolescence

Oh teen years, oh teen years,
what words can I say?
You’re screwed up; I hate you;
You ruin my day.

From acne to stretch marks,
you torture me so.
Why must this shit happen
for me just to grow?

Why must you? Why do you?
  -  make me so pissed?
If you left all existence,
you wouldn’t be missed.

You’re useless you suck
  -  but I must now tell:
Get out of my life, and
go straight back to hell.

Preface to this next poem: 

1) There's nothing edgier than staring out a window at the rain; wowowowow.
​
2) My freshman year I was in honors math, and this year I had decided to take it easy and take regular level math, and little pretentious Colin was not ready for the the experience. I had a hard time understanding that there were people that existed that didn't spend every second of their time trying to be bookworms. 

Ode To My Math Class
​
I stare at the window as it slowly rains
and I wonder why these people don’t have their brains.
They chatter and don’t even listen a bit.
They’re clearly and loudly not giving a shit,
and then right on cue  -  as if it was planned,
the next day they bitch that they don’t understand.
God fuck it, I hate them! It should be a crime.
You make math class hell, and you’re wasting my time.

Preface to this last poem:

​The WKCE is the Wisconsin Knowledge and Concepts Examination, a standardized test that students take every couple years that is long, exhausting, and completely takes over your school day for like a week.

Ode To WKCE

As I sit here, waiting, itching in pain,
wanting to leave, yet waiting in vain,
across the room, I hear everyone talking,
and out of their chair, I see someone walking.
“What bullshit is this?!,” I say in my head,
“The teacher should stop them! What is she, dead?”
And I look in horror as I turn to see,
the one that is walking and talking is she.
So I sit here in silence and openly weep.
Fuck testing; I’m finished; I’m going to sleep.