Behold Teacher!

I am the perfect teen!

I am exactly who you want me to be.

I never break the law and your homework is my hobby.

I prefer reading the dictionary to TV

Because Pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism is much more intriguing than Finn and Jake to me.

Fill my head with your opinions because I don’t have my own.

But no one knows what I think when I’m in the comfort of my own home.

Truth is I’m not happy with myself or my identity.

I put walls up like Berlin, so that no one can mess with me.

Especially since I see everyone as the enemy.

Put up more walls so no one sees the darkness within me.

Committing consistent sins like I’m the antichrist’s first of kin.

Keep it in!

Keep it in!

Don’t let anyone else in!

Don’t let them see you cry!

Smile even if it’s fake as an orange peel grin.

And when they ask about your scarred skin,

tell them something funny like you wrestle bears on the weekend.

Keep that mask on tight

Be that perfect teen and act like…

Like I didn’t spend my entire weekend just listening to Tyler and Badu.

Even though I had mad homework to do.

Like I really do give crap that I’m late to school.

Like I didn’t buy these sneakers just to look cool.

And when I got home from school,

I definitely chose to write a seven-page outline

over reading Siddhartha and watching Adventure Time.

Like I’d give up my free time to maintain a 95,

when in 30 years, my essay on organized crime wont even be worth a fucking dime.

Like I call the principal Dr. even though she doesn’t even know my name.

Like my home life is great and it never makes me think of setting my bed a flame.

Like feeding me the white man’s biased bullshit account of history doesn’t make me want to go up to

Mr. Pop quiz kick that nigga in his jaw and wait for him to call the cops on me.

My apologies, for bursting your bubble teacher.

And please pardon me if I’ve been rude.

But shoving your identity down my throat,

Won’t keep the rebuttals in me subdued.

We don’t all share your opinion.

So show some damn respect to me

before I let you in

on this secret called my identity.

So yea, necessity’s the mother of invention alright.

And that has-been invented the perfect teen.

But creativity’s the mother of all in this dimension,

and she birthed me.