My hands clasp around the bat.
Things run through my mind, anything but that.
The ball comes, and my hands tighten.
The sun being bright and
in my way.
But it's time to play.
I swing, and the ball flies.
Right to the gym teacher's eyes.
People scream and begin laughing as I blush.
And I lower my head, expecting my grade to be crushed.
"Heh, Oops?" I say walking up to him.
But my chances seem very, very grim.
No A's today.
No more play, but now pay.
YOU ARE READING
What Does It Mean?
PoetryThis is a book full of poems, notes, and other sorts of things that help me out! It's... Idunno.weird.