The prince wears, with the aura of a god,
A shaky crown of words, numbers, and pride.
Classmates part like water, he marches on,
Thorns protect the fragile flower inside.
So-called friends kiss up, keep close, but not dear.
Betrayal adds fuel to the brewing storm.
Praise mixes with scorn, awe mixes with fear.
Until keeping secrets becomes the norm.
The rhythmic ticking clock hands seem to stall
The prince’s tension rises as birds sing.
He shivers, trying in vain to keep calm
Until joyous bells toll, and freedom rings.
The classroom prince takes his place on the throne,
Ever-present, ever-shining, alone.