Parachial school
Myself a student
Penguined teachers
With habits, staring
Demanding prayer
Eyes pierced deep
Sees my soul
Sure to know
The sins I keep.
My voice hushed
My face blushed
I quickly say
"Good morning, Sister."
(Although she might've
been a mister)
I couldn't tell
Now bound to Hell
With such thoughts
I gotta stop
I quicker turn away
And pray
For
Forgiveness.