Perspective Of A Backbencher Poem by Isabella Francis

I sit on the last bench,
Like I don't even exist,
Days pass by
In an eternal mist.
Voices all around
None speaking to me,
Noises all around
None calling out to me.
Sights don't ignore me
They pass through
Like I'm a ghost,
But I'm a human too.
Even knowledge,
The blackboard
Is too far away.
The teacher's voice
Too bleak to convey.
Only the tubelights
Notice me.
Somehow, I am
Opaque only to the light.
Numbness is static,
Stable,
I forget all but studies,
Stable.
My name on the blackboard
Among toppers,
Seems the only acknowledgement
Of my existence.
Somehow,
The Perspective of a Backbencher,
Is never noticed.