My iPod is my 8 ball,
Shuffled songs dictate morning emotions,
On the walk to school I listen to
Beautiful voices do the thinking for me.
On the walk to school I listen,
Blank faced and submissive,
A walk to school is forgettable.
Opinions brew throughout the day.
Earbuds in on the walk home,
no solos on.
I let my own soundtrack play: though
through less tangible wiring.