An Alien Stole My Pencil...!
As I returned from the middle of recess, All sweaty and grasping for breath, I searched for my water bottle in the mess, Found an empty bottle that sat their ailing. I looked around at the bags of my friends, Up on the chair and down on the floor, Colours that were out of trend, Their bottles were in three or four. I took the one that was the warmest, For my throat was bad to be that honest, And it gave me a certain thrust, It was from that someone I could trust. The bell rung, The time was over, I mistakably bit my tongue, I really couldn’t tolerate the torture. It was maths period, Oh, how I loved maths those days, Now only for the so-called ill-fated, As the urge to find ‘x’ decays. I took out my pencil box, Started writing with my pen, It looked like the zerox, Of a painting of the feet of hen. I still managed to work somehow, Neared the end of my assignment, Sweat dropped from my eyebrow, On the work that looked decent. I finished my work, Shot up from my chair, Don...