It takes a very small man
To “Want to punch that girl in the face”,
Or to compare,
A young student to a “Sewer Rat”.

To bully twelve year olds,
Single out young girls,
Transparent fold in time,
Stunted growth.

It takes a small man
To bully children,
It takes a smaller man
To expect respect this way.

“Do yourself a favour
And just shut up”

“Get your head down-
Tick-Tock”

It is like watching a ******
Order 'sewer rats'
To be clean,
Tell the sea to recede.

Your idea of a model student
Is a student who
Already knows
What you are incapable of teaching.

When all is said and done
I know I will miss this place
Miss the people
The view from the windows
The pillow I cuddle each night
But at the moment I feel like a rat in a cage
Poked and prodded and just now
Catching the scent of nearby freedom
Into a frenzy pacing the bars back and forth
Looking for a way out
Yet knowing that there isn't one just yet

I stand in the mirror and I must ask
Who am I?
As I see it now I'm an upcoming young woman
Dressed in white with the future laid out before her
Finally commanding the respect I once craved
But I listen to the music
Our old songs
And I remember when I was nothing more than a passenger
Just trying to get to a destination
And somewhere between here and now I changed
From another emo gutter rat to a lady
And for so long this is what I thought I wanted
But the title of lady doesn't suit me at all
So as I stand in the mirror it's not one reflection I see but two
A put together lady in red
And a thrasher in black
And they both smile the same sick twisted way
And I just wish it was easy to figure it out
Who am I?

Click-clack clatter claws at the doormat.
Right where our ramada had roofed a small rat.
"What was that?", asked the rat.
Which in fact, twas our cat.
Nearing fast to the rat
Who has asked, "What was that?"
Twas a blur, and a crash,
Then the black flash did slash,
But fell flat.

I never asked to join the rat race.
But being a cognizant participant of the
perpetual scramble
I've noticed
it seems
we're always neck-and-neck,
nose-and-nose--
it's me!
No, *******--
it's you--you're winning--oh,
wait--it's me again!
You!
Me!
Him!
ME!
you,
him, me, you...
Is this a marathon we're supposed to sprint?
Are  humans even capable of doing that?
Or... hamsters?
I slow down and become a fat ******* lump,
moving slowly, and yet somehow,
there you are beside me still.
There is our row of hamsters wheels,
and here is our imaginary race
to a finish that exists in an industrial dream.
The soul resides in the breath
we can never catch
as we are racing--
You're WINNING,
I'm winning!
You, me, you, him, her, me... again.
And again.
And again.
For efficiency's sake
we race in a row.

It’s a familiar sight, that is my ceiling,
When I wake in the night with a familiar feeling;
A sense of worry and a cloud of dread,
From the rat in my mind, scratching my head.

I do my best to ignore or pretend,
But sadly for me this rat’s my best friend,
He warns of a busy brain, with bad times ahead,
Caused by words unspoken and things unsaid.

He nags at joy, and cherishes sorrow-
And makes you fear the start of tomorrow.
The rat never lacks devotion,
And can turn drops of doubt into an ocean.

I hope you don’t know the scratch and the chew,
Of drifting through life, not knowing what to do-
With that gnawing rat that keeps persisting,
That you’re not living your life, but just existing.

I wish this rat wasn’t so well fed,
Cos when I see my friends he’s there in my stead.
They think that I’m angry, grumpy and mean;
But I wish they knew that I’m not what I seem.

It’s gone on so long that I’m starting to think;
That he’ll never stop and he’ll never blink.
I feel it always, in my skull where he’s sat;
The doubts in my mind, in the shape of a rat.