Teachers.

~Dedicated to Courtney Bennett, my 9th grade physical science teacher~

 

 

Badly broken, that’s what she is

There’s something about her green gaze that’s dead

Not quite alive

Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes

Her clothes hide all the weight she’s lost

Her sleeves and jeans cover the scars she bares

Her head contains the constant screaming thoughts

 

You.

 

Deserve.

 

To.

 

Die.

 

Maybe she’ll give into them one day

But for now,

The last person she’d expect to save her

Is right there

Holding her close

Although she pushes her away

For 45 minutes a day,

That person is able to see right through every fake smile

Every lie behind “yeah, I’m fine”

That person understands

Empathizes

Comforts

And loves~

Her science teacher

Held her though everything

Her science teacher

Who’s fought wars herself

Gave her the strength

To carry on

Teachers,

You do more than teach mundane, repetitive knowledge

That seems to slip out of our heads the moment

The test comes.

And your students do more than drift off.

For one,

For the badly broken girl who listened in rapture,

you teach

The will to live.

This poem is about: 
Me

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