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I.B. Moaning


I worry 'bout life, about every little thing,
and give myself strife, problems that sting.
I don't look at roses, I cant find love,
Im too busy with proses, and info to shove
deep down my throat, to much to learn,
two essays I wrote, a social life I must spurn.
And i will end up with no friends at all,
going to tests instead of the ball,
Instead of true love, I'm finding a sum,
to save me from this a hero must come,
take me away from IB,
from projects that take up all room in my head.
I know its to much because for the past freshman year,
I watched my time asleep slowly disappear.
I havnt slept in a month, and I might also note,
that im losing my touch, I got a 20 on that essay I wrote.
So in conclusion, as can plainly be seen,
IB causes confusion, and teachers are mean.
stressed

As always, open to critique. talk2hand