Noise, broken furniture, glass-shards
All barely miss my head
School-bags, pencilcases and jackets,
Hostages to trade for stolen rubbers
Footsteps in the distance
Door opens with a bang
Chair-leg scrapes teacher's face
Quiet fills the room
"Where is your teacher!?"
Guiltily honest faces answer,
"Photocopying papers, miss."
Door closes; riot returns
Shrieking girl jumps out the window
Thank God we're on the fourth floor
- Last part slightly exaggerated:
In reality she only lost an eye to a pencil-
I'm knocked over by a flying body
Yelled obscenities fill the room
I should really get out of here.
YOU ARE READING
Boring Lessons Words
PoetryCollection of Poems I wrote in lessons that were too boring for words.