Nothing Works Right

The 'F' on the test, bright red, like a wound.

History, all those dates, still unwound

in my head, like a knot that wouldn't come loose.

And Dad, yelling about the trash, no excuse.

I studied for hours. For real. Not even lying.

But the words just flew out, my brain frying.

He says 'try harder,' like I'm not. Like I don't.

Like I want this. Like I just won't.

So I threw the paper, it flew past the bed,

crumpled against the wall, full of dread.

Buried my face in the pillow, a thick, old thing.

And just screamed. No sound. Just the feeling.