Reading Students like Closed Books

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7:30, comes a little too early

For you, and for me.

You stare out unto our sea of painted faces,

And call to our attention.

You told us we could achieve whatever we wanted,

If we put our minds to it.

But our minds are haunted,

By untold secrets.

You see our recklessness as fueled by desire,

When it’s our hate for life, which sets that fire.

The young man you assumed was high,

His eyes were red from the tears that he cried.

He pulled his sleeves as you walked by,

Hiding the scars he made last night.

The young lady who walked in late,

Was fighting a battle with her self-hate.

She forced a smile as you saw it was 8,

Disguising her undying pain.

“Class, never judge a book by its cover,” You said,

“To every book, there’s a story to be told.”

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