Huba Huba

United States

Writer, poet, musician, wanna-be-botanist.
Sleep deprived.
Call me a monster, I put milk in before the cereal.
I'm probably eating ramen right now or having a mental breakdown.
Imagine having an aesthetic bio
Joined: May 26, 2020

Message to Readers

Whatcha think?


May 27, 2020


I sit on my porch. 
It's a little chili, 
sitting in my garden,
on a chilly day. 

So I wear my older brother's sweater. 
It's blue, 
It's ordinarily cotton, 
And it's a little sweaty. 

My parents are away, 
Working together and selling toys. 
Our family is so happy, 
And we never argue. 

I'm excited about today's festival, 
My brother's cooking fish, 
For the grand food competition, 
Which is up on every June 21st. 

I'm not sure if I should cheer for him, 
My friend, 
or one of my favorite anime characters, 
Sebastian; one hell of a butler. 

Poetry makes me very happy, 
Just jotting down my stanzas, 
Fill me with joy, 
As I sit in my brother's sweater. 

We live in a place called the Shire, 
where Hobbits happily live their daily lives, 
peacefully and happily, 
without competition nor hatred. 


What a happy world. 
I don't want to return to the nightmares, 
Where a pandemic outbreak is on the move, 
and jealous classmates dislike the fact that I'm the best clarinetist at my school and that I receive awards for my good behavior at school and that I work hard for good grades, 
and people are trapped in a never-ending spiral of going to school, working, paying bills, and retiring when they're old and useless,
and families are being split due to arguments and issues. 

But I must sleep. 

Time to come back into a world without hills, 
in Illinois where everyone sit in an office for money, 
or sit in a desk for education, 
Wishing hard for Saturday to come. 

It's 12:00,
Time to cook for my younger sister. 
If only an older brother could appear, 
and save me from this terrifying world. 



See History
  • May 27, 2020 - 10:35pm (Now Viewing)

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