Class is War

Citizenship and Rhetorical theory,

I stare the terms down without ponder,

mind weak and weary.

Minute by minute,

My heart slows in my chest.

I should probably be listening

As to not fail the test.

And then!

A question is posed to the class,

A flash-bang if you will.

Silence falls over the rows as a dark heavy blanket.

..... : (

Or perhaps a pillow fort.

..... : )

My sweet fort of silence is quickly torn down

after a few peaceful moments,

the tragic end to a mighty kingdom.

The professor makes his charge again,

His dry academia a brutal cavalry against my dynasty of hope.

Nonetheless,

a dream of precious silence

passes the seconds,

and my sentence to death by academic boredom seems to pardon;

even if just for a moment.