School Through The Rebal's P.O.V. 7/15

I'm supposed to break all the rules,
but heads with everyone I meet,
wear white after Labour Day,
and never be to sweet.

I'm not supposed to care,
if anybody talks,
I'm supposed to have permanent issues,
with every one of the jocks.

But only part of that is true,
and no one really knows,
that a quarter of what I do,
is only just for show.

When I was a goody-two-shoes,
no one gave me a second look,
now that I've changed my image,
their whole world I just shook.

One false move could change it all,
and I'd be back where I started from,
so I put on my spike collar,
and march to the beet of my own drum.

They don't know how hard it is to be different,
to always go against the grain,
to always buck authority,
the pressure's driving me insane,

But I have to make it look easy,
like I don't even care,
because if they knew the truth,
death wouldn't even compare.

Nobody know me,
they all just know my rep,
as I glide down these quiet halls,
carefully watching my step.

©
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