We sit counting, 

Developing ticks

That 

Twitch and match the

Drone

Of an endless day.

While you sit

Towering above our heads,

Preaching from

Black books the idea

Of a functioning society

And what it means to be

'Educated'.

Your voice drowns out silent

Pleas for help

As you label us as test scores. 

To you

We are merely a faceless mass

Leading you to your next pay,

Each heart you strike,

A stepping stone.

 

But we need more than that...

 

There's a whole list of shit

We can't say to our teachers.

I cannot confess my sins

And speak to you of heartache,

Pull my sleeves up and demand you to

Stop and see

What men did to me, 

Tell you I didn't finish

The novel last night,

Because I sat up,

Contemplating suicide,

Hating my existence. 

 

I cannot seek refuge in your

Camps 

Because school's a 

Slaughterhouse,

And you can't hear the truth.

 

She can't tell you why she always 

Slings in 20 minutes late, 

Because you are too busy yelling

About numbers.

Why she's sitting,

Praying

They didn't see her,

That bruises and skinned knees heal, 

That hate rolls of her back

 And that the bullying you miss,

(Because you are too busy on Pythagorean Theory to even 

Notice 

the slashes she's receiving)

Some day stops.

 

She can't confess the story of her day,

Because you are to obsessed with beating

Syntax into a boy who can barely say hi..

The one who's surviving

On heart and dreams,

While balancing

Punching the time clock

And

Learning English,

In hopes

That he can be a citizen,

And

Support his family.

You don't get why

He can't pronounce Mathematics 

And are too busy in your attempt to

Americanize him,

To see the scars 

That his drunk father inflicts when he mispronounces

Maybe.

 

If you took the time to look at us,

You'd see.

We're busting at the seams,

Looking for a clutch,

Hoping you'll hold out your hand

And offer us something to grasp.

But we stumble and fall short of perfection,

Tumble down into darkness

To feed on blurred lies

And an education that won't

Guide us

To the individuals. 

Because

We are test scores and numbers,

Cattle you prod.

And I can't tell you this,

Because it's

All

On the list of

Shit

We can't say to our teachers.