Here I Sit

Here I sit
In a class I don't want to be.
May be pointless to admit.
What do they want me to see?

Here I play
On a field I call my own.
If they let me, I would stay,
But they wouldn't leave me alone.

Here I write
As I leave the world behind.
I finally begin to find my light,
But they wouldn't give me the time.

Here I lay
And wonder why I try
To fit their perfect mold of clay
As the morning draws nigh.

Here I sit
Again in a class I don't want to be,
In the mold I will not fit.
How can I get them to see?