School

• Jazmyne McQualter, Grade 6
• Poetry
• 2008

Rounded up like sheep by farm dogs and taken away in our trucks
Brought to a place like a slaughter house where every second sucks
The books piled high, the whips a cracking, stared down sent into motionless fear
Lunch is like a flash, a breath, to groan at the start of each and every year
Busy always working, never time to sleep
Held like mindless zombies, or pelting crazy sheep
At the end of the day, then comes the look, the homework due tomorrow
If you didn't finish, your knees shook and your brain tossed in endless sorrow.