If you would only listen, not just to my words, but to the grammar in my sentences, the quivering in my voice, the lowness of my tone, then you might pay attention to the sweat running down my slouched shoulders, my eyes wandering, that paper cut on my writst and my hands shaking with the pencil imprisoned between my fingers. If you weren't so oblivious, you might notice that I'm gone, I've dismissed myself, I bit the orange and ran away, and at a distance I gawk the chalkboard vacantly, unaware of my surroundings. When I raise my hand, I wave my hand, my aching hand is waiting ma'am, you blankly stand there, empty glance, I wave my hands intensely. Pride is torn, hope is burned, mind is blown, test results for dinner. I reached for you, you teach as if, air conditioning is fine, well I'm not. I fought for everything, you taught me nothing. Why did I follow this hollow course, failure has taken its course. Of course, its taking a toll on me, this course is putting a hold on me, can't control myself. Formulas, bouncing off the walls, concepts, tornado formation, loss of breath, eyes clouded with dirt. You can't help me anymore, not like you care.