When it was my turn to speak,
Teachers would say I spoke out of turn,
Waiting for them to finally return,
I had already forgotten what I wanted to say.
When I tried to spread my thoughts,
I was always caught,
Detention numbers rose,
Because I spoke in poem rather than prose.
Silencing my thoughts with authority,
I stopped thinking like me.

The only thing they taught,
Were all in facts and figures,
Charts and graphs,
From colleges to career paths,
None of which spoke to how I felt,
All the criticism I've been dealt,
And how I'm an iceberg about to melt.

I was made to belong,
I even listened to different songs,
I listened to Katy Perry,
Don't get me wrong,
She's the taste of a chapstick made from cherry,
But she didn't exactly speak to me,
From a different time, a different genre,
Preferred to have paid for a non encore,
Then to have continued on.

When I didn't belong,
I sat on a staircase,
Isolated from playing chase,
Hands to my face,
To cover the tears,
Saying it's just lemonade,
That i had spilt it somehow.