This is a real-life teacher. As a matter of fact, he's my math teacher. And I sit in the front row next to his desk!!! Don't ask me why I get sometimes red when I keep holding my breath. He's good, but ooffiie, it smells dead here! XD
Your "P's" throw green saliva.
Your voice booms around.
Your shirt that was once white
is now a dirty brown.
You make my eyes water
when you raise your hand to ask for
the answer to the equation
when we don't pay attention.
The shirt once pale is dark and sticky, wet.
The hair once long and dirty
is cut with no difference.
That scar on your arm
really freaks me out,
that gum in your pants
has something sticking out
and weigths around a pound,
while your freaky tall head
makes me look like an ant thrown to the ground.
YOU ARE READING
Open Fortress
PoésieThis is a group of poems I make to express my feelings. I was a hard-hearted, stone, icy girl who hid her heart behind thick walls once, but all that changed when I opened the fortress in my chest, and allowed few to see what I trully feel. You are...
