A shrine of untold words.

French class.

If only I knew a way to
Make time go faster.
I wouldn't have to go through
Endless hours with that teacher.

She's nice, a little peculiar
Doesn't mean I like her class
Nor do I like her manner,
For she likes to sass.

She can come off as sadistic,
With a glimpse of arrogance
Just a glimpse the size of a brick
And she owns an evil stance.

A voice higher than the mount Everest
Enough to make me wince in pain,
I wonder if she ever gets to rest
With how much she likes to complain.

A sprained ankle and she's still here ?
How boring is her life at home?
She will just worsen her foot, I fear
It's not really my problem.

She still has all kind of energies
To yell and shout with no pain,
But to correct our copies
No! Don't forget about her sprain !

Maybe one day I'll show her this,
And hope she smiles.
But I know that she'll dismiss
My efforts in making rhimes !