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Poetry from within

The Teacher

The teacher groans, another day

of stunned indifference slips away.

Bored children rush the classroom door

as if to flee this crushing chore!

She turns and cleans the detritus

of young minds' fight with calculus

from the board behind the chair

and shakes her head with mute despair.

Soulless kids, from soulless flats,

with haunted eyes, like feral cats.

They know their place, they know their role,

No work, no pride, no hope. The dole.

A glance around the ravaged room,

so unlike the fertile womb

of learning that young people need,

to break the cycle and succeed.

She pauses then, and starts to smile,

contemplating for a while.

She was once, like them, astray.

And tomorrow is another day!

Mark Rand