Mind the title, please forgive me.

Poems are hard, but they're easier than an essay.

 

I write, not for the soul, 

but for the college toll.

Full of banking trolls.

These are metaphors of the lowest degree; community college. 

That sh*t was just free compared to me.

 

I'm quiet at heart, but loud when I fart.

It's for the attention, I feel it inside, but 

fame and fortune keep me in stride.

Keeps me alive.

Someone offers a spoonful and I just open wide. 

Don't hide.

 

This is me.

At least, all I can see.

Seeing is hard, even with my glasses.

Double check I have them when I'm in my classes.

(Triple check just to make sure I'm going to classes)

Don't get fowled out.

Stay in the game, don't fly away like Peter Pan.

'Cause you can.

 

Pagliacci's dead, but not forgotten.

He's immortal, never ending and defending,

but if you ever need a mending, you're not alone.

Watch your tone.