Don't tell me who I am

Or that I cannot succeed.

I have enough issues at home

That are weighing down on me.

Do you know I cry at night

From all the stress that's in my chest?

Parents log in to see my grades

And there are Fs on my tests.

"Why is this?" they ask me pissed.

"I lost points for the misspelling."

"What about about the others?"

The lower the grades, the higher the yelling.

"I wrote in pencil, I got nothing."

"Well by now you should know better.

You're a Senior, not a Sophomore.

You expected this endeavor."

Apparently I'm the full cause of my ridiculous failures,

While you smile sweetly to your failed students.

Maybe you love us more than stated

Because you obviously want to see us again.

You know, we could enjoy the lovely summer

But unfortunately I'm here instead.

I sit across from you in the hot and musty classroom

Not walking across the stage with my diploma in my hand.