My American High school

America, O America, 

you are the land for the free. 

The toungues roll off words, and affect us deeper than a pit in the sea. 

My homeland I wallow in, 

freedom to be,

but highschool isn't the place for me. 

 

Education, 

the lack there of imagination. 

What a daft system made from this creation. 

Full of plagues and evil of destruction. 

 

Though education isn't bad,

no its the people in it. 

The teachers who end up putting standards too high, 

The students who put us down until we wish to die,

and the food that makes us want to cry. 

O the woe of this.

 

America, O America, 

education is for me, 

my brain loves to learn about the past heros audacity, 

but not about the same thing endlessly. 

My state only has how much history, 

so how much times do we have to restudy. 

 

Teachers, teachers, 

we should apreciate thee,

yet our students treat you badly, not letting you be. 

your pay low, and yet your value should be high

who else would teach us how to live in our society.

 

America, O America, 

check your schooling again, 

it's full of books, and crooks alike. 

No one is there to be a friend. 

Here this plea for a decent meal and help us not end. 

And please put the useless things to end. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My community
My country
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741