History

Location

How I wish to slam my head,

Against the mahogany of my desk,

Due to studying the montonous dead,

Which should be laid to rest.

I have a most specific desire,

One to yell and scream--

Another to throw myself within a fire,

To escape this boring regime.

Your voice lulls me to sleep,

The subject bland and charred,

The price I pay is quite steep,

For listening to a bag of lard.

I cannot wait for next semester,

To nurse injuries my brain might fester.  

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