This Is Not A Poem

If I have to read another poem written by some brooding teen

Imagining the reaction of their parents after they die
I'm gonna puke.
I've earned the right to say that; People have puked on me.
Ghosts only scare me at night; During the day I have bills to pay.

It always scares me a little when I'm teaching
And I look around the room
And all the students are writing down everything I say.
I'll be honest; I'm makin' a lot of this shit up.
"I'd rather be a coach, not a critic" I think as I tear the heart out of

A piece of writing far superior to anything I could have done.
If a tree falls in the forest, does a bear shit in the woods?
What!? One hand can't clap alone!
A wise man once said, "In the real world,
People actually expect you to produce something

Before you feel good about yourself!"
Ok, he wasn't so wise
But he was smart and rich and nowadays most people can't tell the difference.
Everyone who is a bully was once bullied themselves

But that's not an excuse: They still deserve to get their asses kicked.
I once wrote a story about shooting a guy in the face. I farted.
Insert poetic image of birds or wind or singing crickets or something
And love the alliteration in the lengthwise line.
The drugs are all gone. Gimme that bottle.
See you in hell. Shakes.