Bells ring, clocks tick, sweat drips
from my face.
My legs throb from the forced speed walk
to and from class.
My short midget like legs shuffle through the halls
even after five minutes past the regular bell.
I wish I wasn't so late to class every hour, every day,
every year.
The wristwatch on my arm taunts me as I run late to class.
My light books crush my spine that collapses to the ground
occasionally.
My procrastination at my designated locker locks lots
of minutes unable to move
frozen
panicked
from the world around me
I try to cover my face from the forceful feud between the
different sides of the hallways.
Dred runs through my body
when the 6 foot, long legged boy pushes me to the ground
and prohibits me to go to class.
If I was tall and had courage,
I would march right down the halls of Hersey High and
arrive to class on time for the first time.
But in reality,
Little late Nelly is what they all call me.