They expect me to be perfect―
Not fashionable clothes
Or hair on point,
It's my grades they respect,
The ones rumored
To be straight As.
They study me like a subject,
Do the same for class,
And they'd get the A.
My grades they collect,
Pushing and prodding,
"Did you get the 100?"
They're blind to its effect,
I spit info on tests
To earn the façade.
If not the image, I'm a reject,
The kid in the corner...
That's it.
Expectations do infect,
Succumb to the pain,
The struggle, the doubt,
Just to be what they expect.