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766509, please raise your hand. To the school I was but a number, feeding money into the stands. What I say I mean quiet literally because money is all that mattered. The students saftey, or ablity to learn
Careful, now, I daydream softly, As the clock strikes one by one, Only a lifetime 'til that saintly bell tolls, but until then, the prisoners must suffer. I hear the voice that makes my starry mind pucker,
Criticized. What’s the point of even speaking? Focus on breathing. Teacher’s eyes seek out mine. Keep my head down.
In I walked to the class we call history Ready to learn something about me Heart skipping beats Stomach leaping forward with a foolish anticipation And sudden as the forces of gravity It’s all ripped from me