I spoke with a silent tone,
trapped in my own mind.
Blankly staring, cold to the bone.
My words can't be defined.
Teacher, your lectures are flat.
It pains me to hear your voice.
I wonder if I could drift away and that,
is by choice.
Why must I sit in mystery
thinking about what you just said?
You ask me a question about history.
Oh god. I just want to go back to bed.
Stuttering, I can't speak.
But teacher you call me out.
Making me feel weak.
And all I want to do is shout.
Teacher, don’t pick on me.
I can't express my thoughts well,
nor will I be.
But I'm here still.
Someday my voice will appear,
and teacher you'll hear
my little sneer
that grew during the school year.