I watch her sitting there in class,
Her hand on her chest.
And I feel a twinge of sympathy
For I know she needs to wretch.

Her toes are curled under her desk,
The color is drained from her face.
And I can tell she's not happy
As she stares off into space.

Halfway through class she leans over
Resting her head on her desk.
But the teacher says something mean
Making an attempt at burlesque.

She runs from the classroom
With tears filling her eyes,
And I wonder how he gets off on bullying,
That guy deserves the Nobel Prize.

But more importantly I wonder
Does he not know?
Theres a life inside of that girl
She's not just some picture show.

Soon she'll be a mother
To a beautiful baby boy.
And then the teacher won't matter
For the child will bring her such joy.