~a poem for the classroom~
Mr. Clock, Mr. Clock
Why do you taunt me so?
Your face is much too wide
Your hands are much too slow
Why do you take so long
To interpret the time I spend?
With your s k i p p i n g and
m o c k i n g and
tick tick t o c k i n g
It seems this class will never end!
YOU ARE READING
Written in the Wondering State
Poetry"If we exist only to someday cease, Who are we here to please? These drops of life we continue to seize; Do they make us thieves?" If poetry is constantly spilling out of me like ink upon the parchment of an aspiring writer, then why not write it al...
