E will pass with a D,

his third of this school year.
The final senior in second bell,
the rest no longer here:
 
T for threatening a baby mama,
G for smoking weed.
K was waiting to turn 18,
B just would not read.
 
But E will pass, through blood and sweat,
and when he walks the stage,
I doubt he’ll prize our common pains,
but—finally—disengage.