Classroom Friction


United Kingdom

He puts his hand upon me, 

I whisper to him no. 

He puts his head towards the floor, 

And reaches for his toe. 


He pretends to pick his pencil, 

But really touches me. 

I try to call my class mates, 

But they just look so quietly. 


I start to feel real awkward, 

And begin to move my legs. 

I try to move away, 

But he clicks back like a peg. 


My teacher doesn’t realize, 

My peers don’t really care. 

So, I decide to endure the friction, 

Underneath the classroom chairs. 


This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

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