He looks down,

Gaze harsh and unforgiving.

It's only my second  tardy

But he doesn't accept excuses,

And warns that the next time

Will be my last, 

And I will fail.

"My blind friend needed help,

And I unfortunately assumed

You would listen.

You know her, after all."

Of course he won't.

Nor did he care when

"I had to drive my mother

To the hospital

Because of an emergency."

He doesn't accept excuses after all.

Demanding perfection

In an Imperfect world.

If I were brave,

Or rich enough to afford failing,

I would stand up to him,

Make him listen.

"You claim to care,

But not about me.

About my number,

My grade,

And how it will affect

Your perfect reputation."

"I am done.

I don't care any more.

I never liked you either,

And Chopin was from

Poland.

Not Austria.

Idiot."