Submit a Poem
Get Your Premium Membership
spacer
Pinterest button
Comments Inbox

 

This Thing Called School

This mighty school, this boiling stress,
Supposedly makes me the best of the best.

But how can I be as good as they say,
When I barely have the attention to pay?

From the dark of the morning, to the dark of the night,
I am constantly struggling to keep on the right.

I arrive their so early, and return home so late,
Only to find myself a fish caught on bait.

I feel like I’m breaking this one crucial rule;
And falling behind in this thing they call school.

Please Login to post a comment



A comment has not been posted for this poem. Be the first to comment.