Physical Education

You look at me, and ask, "Why don't you try?" I look at you, and wonder, 'Why do you never see me cry?'
You accuse me Of letting the ball by. I accuse you, Of making me afraid to try.
They call it "Physical Education." It's more like an education in pain. But not the physical kind. Instead, how to hide tears, in the rain.
The teacher tells me, With a small smirk, That I won't pass the course, If I don't start to work.
I smile back at them, In my own lonely, little way, And slowly muster up, The courage to say;
"You tell me to work, And I wish that I could, You tell me to try, And I know that I should.
"But how can I work, and how can I try, When I always feel judged, so I guess this is goodbye." And I slowly walk away, heading back to my dome, Almost wishing that I had lied.