Ode To Math Class Poem by Corey Mason

These four walls, so bland and white,
Are their prison
No light comes in…
And no darkness can escape

Oh these walls that blinds them so,
Only more posters could redeem it
But even then,
That won’t ever happen

The kid that sits next to the teacher,
Drools when math starts,
And doesn’t stop ‘til it ends

And next to him is Mute
She’s called that,
Because she hasn’t talked yet

But even the bare walls,
Don’t damper the vibrant kids
They jest and point
Teasing the instructor

He looks as a pear,
But to them
He’s Mr. Liver

And when they jest,
A fit he cries,
Poor, poor Stan,
Poor, poor Mr. Liver

A tall kid in the back,
Shouts out jokes
Almost as much as the instructor

And the guy beside him,
Is just as putrid
Blaring out a perverted jest,
Hoping to brighten the mood

And not to forget,
The two girls in the back
They talk, and laugh
Mocking all they can

And a small, frail boy
They do pick on
Carefully dodging the instructor

But them all know,
The barren walls will soon come down on top of them
And the people will all leave,
But to the math class…

They’ll always have that hour