I Shot My Teacher

I Shot My Teacher Right in the back against the blackboard, Ambling late into the class with my bag, With a sullen outlook and a plan to nip the hag, I settled in the back row looking upward, With no emotion or whatever. Even though, I didn’t mean to, But, she made me a show I didn’t regret what I did, you know. Thundering, she cursed the day I was born, Her tirade on why I came to learn in turn, Elaborately lambasting milieu I found myself And offing, blindly she effrontery disclaim The dears parents that gave me life. Although, these inflame not hatred toward her, But, brought out in front of the gallery And showed the affectionate letter I scribbled to Valerie, She broadcast while Val. Sobbed, And all of their faces looked in jeer While a recluse, I vision. On this overdone for long and wide; The loaded pistol of my pop would wrapped the vendetta I revealed it out of the den Wall-drope, where it always hide, And put it in bookless Backpack, The following day was school day, On that gray day I put it right through her back. Asking the Attorney after Couldn’t you keep me from the prison?