High school.
Freezing mornings,
And damn hot days,
Are my portion,
A metal seat,
In the middle of four walls,
And behind a black wall,
The home i know,
Am a highschool child,
And i don't like school,
Though dad better not know,
But i would rather watch a movie,
or go raving with my mates,
and i guess that's why i sneak out of school at night.
How mean the principal is,
Always armed with a short cane,
Ready to break it on a head,
Or make bumps on a buttock,
All my teachers are spoilshows,
Keen to make my life a bore..
But even though in the shadow of death i live,
I will not fear,
A thousand strokes i may get,
And six punishments a week,
But i will push on and wait,
For the day i burn down the school.
poet:mutuku.
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