Bad
When I was bad they sat me in the corner
my back turned to them all
my eyes upon the walls
untill I was recalled.
They didn’t know how interesting I’d find it;
that intersecting line
where cool white planes collide
I lost myself in time.
I was bad and they handed me some chalk
in penance was assigned
to write a hundred times
the measure of my crimes.
They didn’t know how interesting I’d find it;
comparing every line
for cursive curve design
all perfectly aligned.
So if I’m bad and you really want to hurt me
it’s normalcy I dread
where squirrels in my head
have to deal with you instead.
#65
Linda Studley 
Somehow I knew I was not alone in this. Say ‘hi’ to your son for me. May the universe sends him an enlightened teacher.
Fantastic poem! This is my 12 year old son and he faces the corner everyday in our “regular” school system. Thank you for this poem, I will be showing it to him…