H.S.A.B

My math teacher is an H. S. A. B. She failed me just to make me cry.

I saw her in the library. She looked like she was about to fail me too.

She’s got a 4.0 GPA and still thinks I’m cute.

That H. S. A. B. skipped lunch. I ate her leftovers. I still felt bad.

She walked in, and the whole cafeteria went silent. Even the pizza got jealous.

I tried to flirt with her. She just said, 'You’re not my type.' I’m not even sure what that means.

She bench-pressed the principal during gym class. He’s still sore.

She’s got more curves than my math homework.

She’s stacked, smart, and still thinks I’m a joke.

She got an A+ on her test. My dog got a C. He’s not even proud.

She’s got a GPA higher than my mom’s patience.

She’s smart, hot, and still ignores me. I’m doomed.

The math teacher tried to flunk her. She cried instead.

She’s got more looks than my math problems.

She’s so hot, even the math problems got distracted.

She wears skinny jeans. My dad’s pants are still trying to be cool.

Her outfit is better than my dad’s job.

She’s got style. My dad’s pants just got rejected.