There are three types of people.

The first type are the pawns,
The ones who follow the rules blindly.
These people don't often know that their being controlled,
It's rather sad.

Then There's the second type of person, the players.
These people know about the game,
And use their power to resist and control the game
In their favor.

Then there's the last group of people, the masters.
These people learned of the game called life,
And they don't like what they see.
They change the world to meet their ideals,
For better or worse.

I know were I fall in,
So can I ask the question?

Which is you?

Just give up
What you seek you will not find
For you have made a mistake
My dear friend of mine

Put it in my room
And that will be the last of it you see
For I have a little brother
Living here with me.

God ******* Damb it
I want my stuff back
You don't know what happened
Ha, what brains do you think I lack?

The thing at the back of everyone's minds is,
"I'm going to die!"
I'm the ******* that's yelling behind them,
"Your going to be pacakes!"

Take my spirit and my dreams you take
push me down and my dreams you make
connection, such a kind that cant break
inception, such a dream you cant wake
the suspense, such emotion, cant blink
inventive, I'd be dead if I cant think
crazy, don't push me, I'm on d brink
spiritual to physical I found the link
my mind is motivated but my feelings are weak
room so tight, the tension this* thick
fills your mind with pressure so quick
a bag of tricks for you for each week
and am getting heavier, pray I dont sink
the devil at the door hole, pray he dont peek
and I'll keep praying until the world shrinks
and falls in Your hands and just remains meek
and how can I die? there's no bucket to kick
if He made me that way, then am happy ama freak
and when I do wat I do, I dont do it cos I can
I do it cos I know that He made me who I am

This is a poem from a high school student to the high school teachers,
And those I'm referring to better know who they are.

To the school teachers who think there cheerleaders,
Grow the hell up.

To the teachers who think being our friend is more important than teaching a lesson,
Grow the hell up.

To the over obsessive fools who rearrange the school constantly,
Wisen the hell up.

To the ******* who spends more than 75% of our budget on sports,
Wisen the hell up.

To the the teachers who force students to act like their children,
Get a ******* life.

To the fools who spend their time on Instagram and Twitter to much,
Get a ******* life.

To the schools that don't know their priorities,
Get your *** in gear.

To the teachers who still are kids, for the last time
GROW THE HELL UP.