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Chelsea’s sitting ponytail up high, head down low.
She hasn’t her homework again.
The teacher’s shouting though she’s not listening, too deep in her pain.
She’s released that school holds her no gain, without him, nothing does.
Teacher’s hands clapping, fingers snapping, not understanding what is happening.
Back in Chelsea’s council flat, there’s been a mishap.
No callback, she’s thinking perhaps.
Fear lights up her eyes, mentally unstable, she’s collapsed.
Deep down she knows it, she just hopes it.
Back in Chelsea’s council flat dad’s on the floor, overdosed.
No wonder Chelsea’s comatosed.
Alissa’s daydreaming, world-changing scheming.
creativity streaming but that teacher’s screaming.
“Little Ms Daydream, read for the class”,
” Nah Ms. I’d rather pass”.
“Don’t back answer”,
The letters are dancer’s.
Always have been, she’s too scared to ask for help, always will be.
Her head fulls with comeback after comeback, she starts a verbal attack.
She’s way to good at that ****, been doing it for years
Cos in this society a suspension is way better than a declension.
Eli’s sits at the back of the classroom, in bits, has another rugby blitz.
The game “he” doesn’t fit but for “his” dad “him” playing is bliss.
Can’t even focus, it’s hopeless.
Ballet is more “his” style, though “his” family would think it vile,
For a “boy”.
Can’t finish the test, trying “his” best.
But her soul is screaming for not just point shoes, but deep down she wants tutus.
Her grades were slipping but she didn’t care, sending out flares.
The thing that bothered her was putting “male” on front page.
She’s trapped in a cage what an outrage!
Avery’s living Eli’s perfect life, but in her mind is a knife.
Not looking at the books, cos brains aren’t important it’s all bout looks.
She’s not even thinking straight, how could she when she can’t remember the last time she ate.
Tutu’s hugging figures, walls covered in mirrors, spotlights and tights, now she’s following pro-anorexia sites.
She can’t make out the blackboard, no she can’t make out anything,
Head starts to spin next thing you know she’s floored.
At this point she can’t even hear, doesn’t even cry a tear.
She disappears, but she hasn’t been there for years.
Esther’s watching the boys football team, to be out there would be her dream.
But pink socks and a kick like an ox don’t quite make the schools appeal.
Cos girls don’t get Manchester deals.
She knew this since she was five, footy always made her feel alive.
Has the same talent as Beckham puts in the same effort as Messi.
But that doesn’t matter cos girls don’t get deals,
this she feels.
Missy’s excepting, only fifteen but she’s clearly been on the scene.
Today’s her first sex Ed, “a bit late now” she saying in her head.
When the bell rings there hasn’t been any mention of contraception.
The nun at the front keeps giving her a glare, the dad’s in the class but she don’t care.
Says that sex is for “sl~t’s” followed by tuts.
Missy isn’t surprised she gets it everywhere she goes,
hears mom’s telling kids “it’s because of her clothes”.
She’s crying every night, trying to make things right.
But Missy’s still the local “sl~t” come morning light.
They won’t talk about it so, some other girl’s gonna have to raise a kid solo.
Tyler’s swinging off his chair, he’s not paying attention cos he’s aware.
Money doesn’t grow on trees, so goodbye to any degrees.
He’s brighter than most, but his intelligence has become a ghost.
Hiding in the dark, his mind isn’t going to leave a mark.
Cos boys around here don’t get degrees, their moms can’t afford the fees
and he knows it, so hopeless.
The P.E hall,
Scarlet’s standing in the corner, she’s in trouble again.
Teacher complains, says she refuses to play cos she’s too vain.
But she loves P.E, her favorite lesson,
But she’s had to stand out once every month since she was eleven.
Her mommy’s doing this alone living in a certain kind of poverty less known.
Cos when the blood starts flowing, money’s not showing.
Improvisation is painful enough, she’s tried it all man, believe me.
If only the basic products were free and the world was less corrupt.
Chloe was paying attention, now she’s looking down she can feel the tension.
She feels the eyes of the male teacher, looking at her features.
Used to study hard but not anymore, automatic A’s so what for.
She hates the feeling, wonders if it’s her fault for wearing something revealing.
But she’s fourteen, he’s certainly older.
She’s objectified, sexualised, intensified.
Isn’t comfortable in the room, but “it’s nothing” she assumes.
Then his arm touches her back and she instantly feels under attack.
Ethan is listening, glistening.
First-year, this is his premiere.
Hoping his skin doesn’t get in the way,
Like it has in the past.
Teacher walks in from the hallway.
Takes one look and Ethan knows how this goes.
Profiled schoolchild, his hope fades away.
In the office
The principle sits by his desk,
Running a school full of narrow corridors,
With an even narrower mind.