The Orange Table

I sit on the Orange Table.

Not the Red or Blue or Green.

This is where Miss has put me

and I think I know what it means.

 

It means my writing’s not too good.

It means I cannot spell.

I don’t know if they know I know

but I only know too well. 

 

I sit on the Orange Table.

It’s where I’ve sat all year.

I can’t do Maths or Science 

they say, and so they put me here.

 

I’m not so hot at school work,

which means I’m not too smart

so I sit on the Orange Table

so I can be kept apart. 

 

I sit on the Orange Table.

They say that this is best.

But they can’t see the orange fire

that burns inside my chest.

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