Huffing and puffing you rush, 

rush through the sea of bodies,

pushing and shoving to make it to that room,

the oh so dreaded room. 

 

You hear nothing but the sound of the clock, 

it drowns out the sounds,

of laughter and chatter,

but maybe it's just you.

 

You bound up the stairs,

turn the corner,

suddenly you're alone in the hall,

the smell of cleaning agents fill your nose,

the door is in your sights.

 

Before you take another step, 

before you can even try,

the jarring sound of rusted bells sound,

doors slam shut in unison, 

you didn't make it.

 

Defeated you hang your head,

oh you foolish child,

locked out of class again, 

apprehension fills your gut,

 

as the sound of the clock slowly rises,

you make your funeral march,

to the dungeon where the fiery dragon,

with the grey plaid suit,

awaits to punish your poor delinquent soul