never say...

Does aimless doodling mean he is any less focused there?




Does the sweet, shy girl and her words matter less because of it?




Is his resting there make him a slacker?



You could never say that you truly understood them, could you? In high school it was hard to understand those people who sat at the back of the class almost in their own reality. Apart from everyone. But why? Maybe they were just anti-social or something of that nature. Or...maybe that's the only place they felt like they had a measure of control. Away in the places they've drawn, the quiet corners of polite pondering, and a sleep before the absolute understanding.



BACK OF THE CLASS


Verse One
Saints elsewhere above common reality
Sketching loose leaf kingdoms
Distant from surrounding someone
Disregard to complex equation, sum
High turrets and balconies, perfect betrothed waits there
Sweet drawn breeze blows raven hair
Snatched away again
Questioned, answered, passed
Daydreams persist at back of the class

Chorus
And here we belong
Hidden away
Here we remain
Back of the class

Verse Two
Behind lenses, frames
Lie startling shades of softest hazel
Shy, afraid
Of appraisal
Unsure of the coming words however little
Lady sits farthest back jotting notes, tresses finger’s fiddle
Until name rings out
Answers, beautifully brilliant
More scribbles of electrons, atomic mass
Gifted but quiet in back of the class

Chorus

Verse Three
Heaviest weight tenders tired eyes
Struggling to remain awake, to listen
Here for remnants of the final year
Some kind of finish line seems to glisten
Head falls to desk, one eye, another
Ill afford to let down ones screaming brother
Quick rest taken
Strain to comprehend Macbeth’s alas
No such thing as fail in back of the class

Chorus