Give me Your in-school suspension
Give me your judgement
Make me feel alone in this room
But I'm not
The names under the table
Tell me the stories
For another kid's sake
I sign my sin
And recognition passes through my features
Because some of these people I met under bleachers
I can tell being bad isn't my label
Because of the names under the table
YOU ARE READING
The Weeping Woods
PoetryAgony in the form of stanzas, words in the form of little silent cries. I made the cover but I don't own any of the pictures. !There's also quite a bit of explicit language!
