I only want to leave this place.

Yet at my current pace,

I'm going to trip and stumble.

Everything I do ends up as bad as a sports metaphor referencing a fumble.

So now I'm just angry,

Not angry at my family,

Not angry at my friends,

Not angry at the world.

I'm just angry at one thing in particular, a number

So even when I drift into a fitful slumber,

I'll be reminded of a number.

A grade in my current English class is the major thing that holds me back, the last chain keeping me trapped.

A stupid number could keep from moving away

A stupid number brings back all past doubts

A stupid number caused by words being incorrect in the eyes of another.

So now I'm just angry,

Not angry at my family,

Not angry at my friends,

But maybe a little angry myself,

But angry at a stupid number.

A stupid number, the last chain

is the one that brings me pain.

So now I just have a ever burning rage,

at a stupid number,

that keeps me from ripping out each page

that holds a word,

or a number,

that is in English

in my last English class.