The Death of a Joy

March 18, 2010
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Bringing silence to my voice brings you no flowers.
I can get barely a sentence out.
Fine: I shall bend to your powers.
I can pretend to know what this is all about.

I suppose I can sit quietly, doing work for some other class.
The discussion stays at a half-hearted tone.
Oh, how slowly the period would pass,
When it could have glowed and shone.

What I have ever done wrong is unknown.
Did I forget to pay some loan?
Perhaps I cheated or lied?
In your dreams my sins reside.

Without the sharing of ideas, school bears little attraction.
I would rather talk than solve some fraction.
Pay me no attention.
Nothing to me mention.

No, I shall not hate you,
Only wonder why
You do what you do:
Why my voice must die.

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