Monday, July 11, 2011

A Letter to my Teacher

Dear Teacher,

I really like this subject matter you teach. In fact, it is one of the easiest subjects I have encountered, but as I reach my last year in this wretched high school, you came along and ruined it, and so therefore, this would be my first time that I would be failing in my most favorite subject of all.

First of all, I don’t like the way you dress or I don’t like the way you move. Even if the way you speak words so softly that I thought it was true and false – because I couldn’t hear it! – thus deducts my score by two or more points because of your tone – and I think I’m the only one who thinks it’s boring, should I be sorry to say that? –.

Secondly, I hate to say this, but you’re goddamn contradicting. You told us that you grade us according to our diligence and hard work, but what the fuck are you doing?! You’re totally doing the opposite you say, and the Thomasian teachers encourage us to be honest, but you – you fucking lied! And you expect us to be honest to you? Look at yourself, but no, never mind it. You’re just a teacher. You fucking don’t know how much it feels – to think that we, students, work hard, organize our messy fucked-up thoughts just to write that bloody formal theme, and in the end, our efforts had gone in vain, receiving a score of failing grade. You degrade us, and finally, you degrade me. I hate you.

Thirdly, I fully remember what you told us regarding the questioning of scores. You said that it is not to degrade us, but to encourage writing more. Well, Miss, THINK ABOUT THIS. How can I have an inspiration when it already died all because of you? It has no spark anymore. Even if I light it up, you would always have a water hose to wet it down. FUCK THIS. You degrade me. I want you gone … in my life. Please.

And lastly, what I realized because of my hatred of you still existing is that it really depends on the teacher, whether he or she has the capacity of displaying an authoritative figure or a soft-hearted one – or a boring and biased one, in your case - . Yes, you’re boring. You really are. You degrade me. My grades in homeworks are so low! What did I ever do to you? This oh this, why did you do? I’m feeling so fucking blue. Shit this, I’m through, so through with you. =_=

Yours Truly,
Your Student

Friday, July 01, 2011

Our Fight

"Your nails dug deeper on my skin,
Wanting to end the game and win.
I'm not weak, and I prove it to you,
Because what you want to do, I let you do.

It's your fault, in the first place,
If only I didn't hear any of your pace,
then I wouldn't have to fight you and try to beat,
I just wanted to punish myself in every bit.

However, you wouldn't even let me do,
You think you're preventing this feeling of blue,
Always reflected that you know all of me,
But don't you see that's only a maybe?

I have psychological sicknesses, and you wouldn't understand,
In my sorrowful or depressing days, I just need a helping hand.
But no - no amount of knowledge would pierce through your soul,
Maybe you didn't know that I have given to every obstacle my all.

And you hurt my muscle, as I tried to fight,
But yes, I did, even at this fortnight.
I know it's unreasonable, but it is to me.
Remember this: you really don't know me.

I rested on my bed, and I trembled in fear,
Wasting the night away in every tear.
Sometimes I wish I had no friends or family,
So that I could live in peacefully and harmony.

But what I told in the previous verse is a lie,
See? That's why I really deserve to die,
No, don't accompany me in every minute,
Trust me when I say you wouldn't like it.

Then you pushed my head on the floor,
Don't you think that would rape my every core?
See, that's why I'm irritated at you, because you wouldn't perceive.
And in this family we're in, patience and understanding, I conceive.

"You get what you deserve" - that's what they usually say,
Planning on how to escape the nightmare away.
I know I always fail because that's my middle name,
I just don't want to play God's stupid fucked-up game."