For My Teachers

I remember learning more from classmates than teachers.

Except the teachers that acted like classmates.

They had a lot to offer me beyond wisdom and philosophy.

They got to me by talking commonly improperly.

I probably shoulda paid attention during lecture.

Constantly nodding off on teachers disrespectful.

Professionalism always sorta made my head hurt.

How do you expect me to believe the content presented by a person who is clearly lying through theirselves?

I can see right through that bull shit attitude.

Why are you calling me rude, at least i’m honest.

You on the other hand are jerking off with condoms.

You wouldn’t wanna get too deep or risk a concept.

You gotta get it right so you’re afraid of being wrong.

You gotta do something so you steal the stuff you saw.

You practice all night so you preform all day long.

It’s not wonder you’re exhausted, can you even feel at all?

I never did a sonnet properly as you defined.

But I can feel the raw salty sweet of being kind.

You were only blind.