He bellows my name, I stumble forward,

Mutters, Whsipers

He describes my lateness, my bad behaviour,

the date of my detension,

Mutters,Whispers,

My cheeks a flame, short of breath,

I weave my hands behind my back.

Dreading LIfe

Mutters, Whispers,

Rhetorical questions are thrown at me, every angle,

Im cornered.

Mutters,Whispers

On the concluding stage of our disscussion,

his face turns beetroot, he finally comprehends that I haven't listened to a WORD he's said,

Mutters,Whispers,

Beads of sweat tickle my forehead,

and my mouth is dry,

my toungue has to quicken its pace to keep up with my anxeity,

Mutters,Whispers

He's got bored with my montonous reactions and sends me packing! With only a feeble detention tailing behing me,

I hope...