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Tears down my cheeks run in streaks. All the time I wasted, 72 hours to be exact. 481 pages more to complete. Yet I compose a poem instead. It's not my fault I couldn't finish, it's my guests.
I'm a smart kid.I can tell you all the lobes of the brain,but I can't figure out how to fix mine.I can identify all the ventricles of the heart,but mine still twists in illogical ways.
The AP system kills love I don't care about you All i want is perfect grades To be better than the few I want to rise to the top That is my drug The ecstacy of that 4.0
Dear teacher Our GPA is not our price tag my worth is not decided by my proximity to the magic amount of 4.0 dollars. It's obvious what you think of the students not sitting in your uppity advanced placement seats.
at peace in a class that looks nothing like me a plea to read the words of my people A.P