Freestyle Poem

Hey you, what's this all about?
What's the purpose, the tone, just give me a shout!
Tell me anything, anything, anything at all!
I won't hold it against you, just make your call.

I don't know, dear Professor, it's as simple as that,
The tone's too bland and the syntax's out of whack.
I don't care if you want me to be more concise,
Go onto someone else, and let them roll the dice.

But I asked you, and I expect a good answer,
You're in AP fool, this is an educational disaster.
Just give me a look at this simile right here,
Or just continue to stare in bewilderment and fear.

It's not that I'm scared, oh wonderful teacher,
More that I don't know anything about Shakespeare.
Hey, look at the clock, class is almost over,
You could have moved on and let me regain my composure,
But no, you stood there and grilled me with questions
Wondering how to put an end to your calculating lesson,
And now I'm stranded in my body, between redness and shaking,
Putting light to understanding, which I can see is now fading.

I'm done, I give up, there's nothing you can say.
I'm putting this to rest... have a great day.