Poems

The class, or is it one at all?

This class is dull

My head feels so full

I cannot believe it,

I just dug a hole.

That hole will remain empty

Old and alone

Until I can finally be on my phone.

For this the hole of interest,

And my interest lies not in this,

But on the pictures and sounds

Of my own merry go round!

My interest lies in the arts!

In the drama at hand,

In riding in carts,

And playing in my band.

Not in this class,

This bore of a thing,

The insulting objectiveness,

That makes me hang.

To add insult to injury,

It called me a cad,

A worthless unworthy,

Filth of a lad.

So I spat on its face,

The class of the disgraced,

The class I had no reason to pace,

But for some reason I still aced.

What happened to this inferno of a class,

The class I so very much despised,

The class full of sass,

The class which had made me writhe?

Is it possible that it has changed?

"No way, no how" I said to myself,

This is not something that would have changed.

But here it is now with wealth beyond my wildest dreams,

Love, compassion, goodness and growth,

Something it now has.

After all this time, it has changed to be more,

And here I am getting older.

Once tart and a bore,

It has grown to be a bolder.

A keeper of hearts,

A friend to all nine worlds,

Except for me,

I will forever forsake its calls.