I'm hungry for what lies between your ears
Within your skull
But I know you won't tell me what's been blossoming behind your eyelids
For everything you see, a thesaurus unfolds
You won't let me thumb the pages
Your dialect reflects your well read imagination
Is there passion?
Or was this just a class?
A grade?
A presentation?
You might have me fooled
Hearing you recite your carefully crafted words
Sends me good vibrations
I hope you were serious about wanting to be a master of English education