Teacher, I am a fighter but I am not a winner

Deny my deeper need and  I will thank you

But hear my inner plead and with a soft spoken word

Teacher, you'll free me

Look at these arms and tell me

The silence they utter has no need for your ears

Your strain is in vain!

My past rises up to my knees, but I am not she

Teacher, look and see

These perfections lined one by one are the occurance of a mutation in the mind

The sane words I screamed while I was locked in a padded cell have heard existance

It was the beauty of the horror I was blind to

And I saw my reflection in a piece of plasic holding on to my neck,

Teacher, make haste!

A silent word is all it takes