Ode To Frustration

It feels like my blood is near boiling point
(I’m not the one you want to disappoint)
When my teacher asks one special child
To choose three pop sticks out of the pile.
Why on Earth is it never me,
Who gets to pick out pop sticks, just three?
Maybe, just once, I would choose myself
Or my stick could even choose itself!
I know the answer, I really do!
Well, I actually really hope I do…
Because if my stick gets picked out of the pile,
( I really would be a special child!)
If I don’t know the answer that time, and then
I might never get my pop stick picked again!
(I’m not the one you want to disappoint)
It feels like my blood is near boiling point.

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