A Quarter 'Till I Drop Out

My shoes are wet,
I continue to tap my foot in a puddle falling from the sky,
I guess the weather men call it,
Rain.

I could tell you,
Where I am supposed to be,
But it would be easier to tell you,
Where I am going.

And that,
Is nowhere.

That is me,
Alone in this hall,
The rain knows I am sad.
It stays out of my way.

A hallway pass walks my way.
He does not say hello.
Running to the bathroom trying to save time;
He doesn't save enough to spend some with me.

I take out my hair,
And begin to braid.
It's a mess but,
It's not like my mom taught me anyways.

An old teacher walks past,
She takes one dissapointed look at me.
She thinks she knows; 
She thinks she knows how my story goes. 

Maybe she is right,
Maybe I should tell.
Maybe I should tell someone that letters look funky to me;
Whenever I try to read or spell. 

As I look at my watch,
I look for a cop out.
I smile and my mum doesn't know why she sheds a tear as I whisper,
"It's a quarter 'til I drop out."