Chereads / The Undefined Collection of Poetry / Chapter 7 - A Students Self-Forfilling Prophecy

Chapter 7 - A Students Self-Forfilling Prophecy

Improve your sketching,

practice your stitching,

my head I'll be itching.

A smile I'll be faking,

my heart I'm replacing,

with ribbons and lace,

as I'm stuck in this space,

teacher's hands on her waist,

it's her time I waste,

because I have no place,

now she wears a sad face.

And at this bus stop, I wait,

for bus forty-eight,

but it's running late,

I've started to shake,

I struggle to breathe,

because time is ticking.

I will lose this race,

if I do not face,

the hurt and the pain,

the bed that I made,

it started to rain.