Pressure Poem by Megs Yea

Pressure



Your hands shake,
Your head aches,
For if your fear comes true,
That you will be through,
Your palms sweat,
As you see that test.
And if you fail,
Your room will be the new jail,
You're an 'A' student,
And your parents are 'A' holes

Thursday, March 6, 2008
Topic(s) of this poem: parents
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