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I.S.S. (In School Suspension)
Don't screw up in school, although it's a drag
Unless you like hearing the principals nag
They throw you in a room as small as a box
Maybe five other people, but nobody talks
It's either hot and stuffy, or cold and dry
And sometimes you'd like to curl up and die
The clock keeps ticking, the minutes crawl by
The teacher's annoyed by everyone's sighs
There's not much to do but read your text books
And sit two seats away throwing mean, dirty looks
Of course you could draw, but even that gets boring...
...pencils gliding to the beat of your fellow man's snoring
To finally show you how boring this can be
This poem's starting to bore even me!!
