*This poem is about the fact that I managed to be out of uniform in some way for each day I was present at school for the entirety of my second semester of junior year because I wanted to see if I could without getting detention. Though I got a lot of grief from my Spanish teacher, I never got more than a warning. Out of self-preservation, I will be in uniform often next year, but for now. join in my victory celebration poem:*
God shot me out of a gun,
And, Lord, am I here to make hell
Not for the people that make hell
But for the people that think to maintain heaven
Or so they think
For I will storm on their symmetrical paradise
With dastardly questions and actions
I will wear my favorite sweatshirts
With no school affiliation
I will question the integrity of uniform
And why it applies to me
Why does it apply, I may ask
Well listen here, me
Uniform promotes constance,
Does it not?
Nothing stops intention
And I am proof of that
Uniform promotes stability,
Does it not?
Nothing stops intention
And I am proof of that
Uniform promotes discipline,
Does it not?
Oh trust me,
I will see that it doesn’t
The discipline in which I remain
Off-unifom every day
Trumps that of constant, stable dressing,
Does it not?
Nothing stops intention,
And I am proof of that.
What else can I do,
But accept detention.
Or I could escape.
What’s the point of stability, of discipline, of uniformity,
When nothing stops intention