A writer in Math Class

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A writer in math class

Words on my paper, don’t know what they say.

Words in the air, it’s a game that I play.

Words in my head, words in my mind.

The words are alive, but what is their kind?

Twenty-seven letters, millions of words.

They make up the world, or that’s what I’ve heard.

Heavens above, none of this makes sense.

At least I’m not using words like thither or thence.

Why do numbers try to take over my mind?

Numbers truly can be a pain in the behind.

Why must we talk about this crazy stuff?

I want to go home. I have had enough.

It’s the probability of A or the probability of B.

It could be this one or that one or one, two, or three.

When did the time come to count the alphabet?

Is it time to go now? Is it time to go yet?

A table, a number, a polygraph test.

It over loads my brain and now I need rest.

There used to be numbers like eight, nine, and ten.

Now there’s point this and point that. When did this happen? When?

And slowly I feel my brain slip away.

No, to your question, I am not ok. 

My brain is now gone, my mind will not bend.

Though class is not done I will just say the end.

 

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