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Rhyming Poem
January 13, 2022
Poems aren't my strong suit,
Let alone English class.
I want to be at home,
Where I have time to pass.
My mom, games, and dogs,
Wait behind the door.
But instead I'm writing on chopped up logs,
When I could be on my floor.
I wanna go home,
Just like Sandy Cheeks.
School just hurts my brain,
And I'm still here for weeks.
© Fox V., Whitesboro, NY
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This poem was supposed to have a bit if truth and irony to it at the same time, being that english class was never my best, and that I'm still able to write a poem about how I'm not good at writing poems