Poem: English Class Daily

These days are becoming more unfortunate by the second.
They love to irritate our elders and find any rule to bend.
Our elders call quits on us, for dealing with us is the worst.
Our elders enter the enlightening zone by choice but feel forced.

The hassle of parting two voices becomes the worst task.
Instead of parting, the voices scoff and dare to talk back.
"How mature," they roll their eyes, referring to the action
that represents the elders' anger as a rude remark.

To hush the voices, it takes more than a bark.
It takes forever to finish one sentence,
Whether it's about Eliza's sixpence or
Scheherazade's myriad tales of suspense.