Poetry-The expression of the soul

The Journey from school girl too Queen

The Queen of the school bus sits at the back seat takin in the scenery asit whizzes by in a blur
The nasty taste of school still in the back of her throat
Now she is the Lord and Master of all she surveys, for the moment
For 25 minutes anyway
The huge school bus is her majestic chariot pulled by 12 white stallions to Nirvana and beyond.
The princess of the moment bejewelled and clad in adolescent imagination,satisfaction,superior nothingness,lost in the moment
No one will take her position,steal her seat
No one will topple her throne
Those nasty sitting mid-way dont have a chance
illbred,with no inheritance,no royal bloodline, off with there heads
Only Her royal advises can be privy too the queens conversations
The golden chariot speeds on at Gods speed
The bus driver peers into the rear vision mirror
Catching the royal demeanor of The Queen it is time for this fairy-tale to end
the bus creaks to a holt and paula runs down the aisle to the exit
its a hot 42.c outside
see you Monday ,she shouts too the driver,everyone screamming at her or giving her the finger. Byyyyyeeeeee!