I have an F but I'm not stupid.

That online homework, I couldn't do it. 

They all have laptops and phones with apps. 

I have a job while my mom naps. 

Impossible to learn at school. 

I need money for those tools. 

But you still sit behind your desk. 

And continue to just hand me F's. 

I sit alone; They call me names. 

Yet, still no one is to blame. 

All day you give that same blank stare,

And act like all those kids aren't there. 

I plead for help and call you out.

You say, "Its serious, oh, that I doubt."

On my body, there are no bruises. 

My soul, however, always loses. 

They pick and prod and cause me pain. 

Yet, still no one is to blame.  

I guess I really am the fool.

I have bad grades; no friends at school.

You shake your head and say "so sad."

You assume it's me that's bad. 

I fight for years; fight to breathe.

But it's hopeless; this isn't me. 

Without your help or your concern

There really isn't anyone. 

So I stop; drop out of school.

I guess I really am the fool.