Looking into a crowd
that doesn't wish to be here
staring them down.
Power.
Writing endlessly on a wall
for it only to be erased
tirelessly lecturing
for it only be forgotten.
Talking back and fourth,
with eyes, smiles, and frowns
never quiet, not even in their heads
nor sleep.
Getting out paper is a chore
the hand to heavy too raise
minds are sharp as a pencil,
but they're all dull.
They know not what's instilled in the future
nor can they understand their past, their culture
they have no background, they remain together,
yet separated by their skin.
It really hits home with me
as I try to teach,
what is the use of English
if they might not make it
through the day.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
wow..deep..i like this..alot...good job..keep it up =]=]
Adding your comment:
