Against the Wall

He didn't move
huddled and curled against the wall like a dying dog.
His hood was washed out black
and his jeans faded blue.
His hands gripped his backpack like a safety blanket,
his fingers looped through the holes
and holding on for dear life.
His blonde hair
streaked with a dull brown
beneath his hood.
The bell rings and he stands,
showing his eyes, mouth, nose
but only for a moment
before his feet quickly lead him to class.