The Cycle

You think you know it all

A certificate on the wall means nothing

If you can't see what's in front of your eyes

 

The smiling faces of your students are just a facade

That drop as quickly as your back is turned

And with no eyes to see, it happens again

Never acknowledged by a teacher with no eyes

 

It starts and ends in an instant

Except for the girl who lives in the constant torment

Constant fear

That grows with every passing day

 

A torment that follows home

As the front door closes

Because her stepdad found no hope

At the bottom of another Whiskey bottle

 

A frustration that turns into fists

And black eyes

Black eyes that well with tears

That she buries in her pillow

 

When the pain is overwhelming

She finds peace in the company of a rusted blade

That slices just far enough

To remind her she is alive

 

I see her in the hallways with our friends

Captivated by the beauty in her smile

Her scars and black eyes always concealed with makeup and long sleeves

As she tells us not to worry

 

And the cycle continues with every passing day all because of the fists of a stepdad

Who found no hope at the bottom of another Whiskey bottle,

And the constant torment, constant fear

She bears with in every classroom

 

A horrible reality that proves

A certificate on the wall means nothing 

If you can't see what's in front of your eyes

 

 

 

 

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