On Writing a Poem

Crushed

Do you really thinks so little,
Of my thoughts,
My views,
My stare

That you'd roll your eyes
And laugh at
All the ways I show I care?

Do I really factor so small,
With the way I try to show
How you're killing me with 'kindness'
Despite the fact I know

You disregard by concern,
And misinterpret my distaste.
You clearly just don't give a damn,
A fact you make with haste.

I'm fed up with trying to change you,
It's a battle never won.
I could try until my face was blue,
Till the setting of the sun.

One day I pray you'll notice,
And feel a pang of some regret,
For the teacher you crushed daily
With your voice,
Your hate,
Your threat.