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ˏˋDalPalˊˎ Oct 2014
Here's a thanks to my grade school teachers

thanking my first grade teacher
for getting me into writing

thanking my second grade teacher
for letting me write a longer book than anyone else
and teaching me it was alright to be different

thanking my third grade teacher
for being stern with me
and letting me know that not everyone is going speak to you with sugar coated words

thanking my fourth grade teacher
for showing me to share a little bit of yourself with everyone

thanking my fifth grade teachers
for helping me with the first year of middle school when no one else would

thanking my sixth grade teachers
for probably the greatest year of my life and teaching me life lessons I wouldn't have gotten until now

thanking my seventh grade teachers
for teaching me that being funny and creative is nothing to be afraid about and giving feels just as good as receiving

thanking my eighth grade teachers
for making me feel alright about the scary transition coming up and bonding with my classmates even more

thank you for helping me grow up
Just going down memory lane
abby Dec 2017
dear past English teachers.

I HATE THE WAY YOU WALK BY ME LIKE YOU HAVEN’T SEEN MY DARKEST CORNERS OR HEARD MY VOICE WHEN IT WAS STILL A WHISPER, LIKE YOU DIDNT SEE ME FALL APART ONTO A PAGE.
YOU TOLD ME YOU WANTED TO HELP ME BUT MY PROBLEM IS I DONT KNOW HOW TO RIP MYSELF OPEN TO THE CORRECT PEOPLE. I TRUST BUTCHER KNIVES INSTEAD OF SEWING NEEDLES AND THAT IS GOING TO BE MY END. THIS EMPTINESS IS PERPETUAL AND MY SKIN DOES NOT STRETCH OVER MY DENTS THE WAY THAT IT USED TO. YOU GIVE ME HALF A SMILE OR SOMETIMES YOU DONT EVEN LOOK.

YOU KNOW THAT IM HERE.
I KNOW/THAT YOU KNOW / I EXIST

YOU SAW THAT ONE EXPLOSION IN ME THE YEAR MY BODY WENT NUMB. IT WAS WINTER FOR ME IN NINETY DEGREE WEATHER AND YOU CAUGHT ME ON A DAY I WAS VULNERABLE. I FEAR YOU GAVE UP ON ME, IM SORRY I COULDNT LOOK INTO YOUR EYES BUT I HAVE NEVER FELT SO BARE—IT FELT NOT LIKE LOSING MY VIRGINITY, BUT THE ONE NIGHT STAND I HAD ON MY FIRST LOVES BIRTHDAY. I CRIED IN A CLOSET AFTER.

I WAS LIKE A TARGET IN AN EMPTY FIELD, PARANOID OF FRIENDS WITH HANDS BEHIND THEIR BACKS. YOU SEE, I TRUST MY ENEMIES. THEY DONT LIE, THEY DONT SAY THEY LOVE YOU. THEY TELL YOU THEY WANT YOU DEAD AND YOU SAY THANK YOU FOR YOUR HONESTY.
YOU SMILE LIKE YOURE TOO BUSY TO BE PATIENT WITH ME ANYMORE. LIKE YOURE GLAD YOU DONT HAVE TO READ MY HALF-ASSED LATE WORK.
LIKE IT WAS JUST A ONE TIME THING.



IM SORRY I AM FROZEN IN TIME AND THAT I CAN ONLY MAKE CONVERSATION WHEN IT IS ABOUT THE WEATHER. AND I AM SORRY I CANT GET CLOSE BUT I DONT WANT THE WIND TO BLOW THROUGH MY FLESH EVER AGAIN.
I NEVER WANT TO BE
THAT
OPEN AGAIN.
I DONT KNOW WHERE I ****** UP BUT ALL I WANT IS FOR YOU TO LOOK AT ME AND STOP AND JUST STARE FOR A MOMENT,
LOOK AT ME LIKE YOUVE SEEN HOW FAR I COME AND ARE WONDERING IF I LOST MY FIRE,
I WANT TO TELL YOU I HAVENT.
I WANT TO LOOK YOU IN THE EYES,
AND CARESS YOUR DOUBTS WITH MY FINGERTIPS.
I WANT YOU TO BE SO BLATANTLY OBVIOUS
THAT I CAN SLAM THROUGH YOU LIKE A SHADOW
WITH WORDS I TUCKED BEHIND MY
RIBCAGE
JUST
FOR YOU.
Hanafuda  Jun 2018
Art teachers
Hanafuda Jun 2018
I always thought that art teachers are doing so well with their life.
Then I found out why.
Because they know if they do something wrong they have to do their best to make it right again.
Just one line that isn't straight can mess it up, but you have to go over it, learn how to correct it, try it again,
And... I'm not talking about a drawing.
When not even the undo button can help you.
Bad Luck Jul 2018
The difference between actions and habits,
     is often measured by the person you're asking.  
One bump, one line, one half ounce...
All shared by people you don't even give a **** about.

These chemicals make me sick --
              Limitless...Why quit?
              When it's only ten bucks for a hit like this?
Even Jesus Christ would have gotten addicted,
              if drugs in his day were half this good.

"Yeah, I'm smashed -- but I promise I can drive fine."
      Walk and push the limits of a real fine line...
If I don't **** myself, or someone else... I'm happy.
       Stare death in his eyes, wink, and start laughing.

Gasping as I swerve lanes --
Stay safe, get paid. Mundane daily.
Living a-live.. Eat. Sleep. Dream. Get laid.  
Chase feelings.

           Please, just feel me now.
                                    You know me, right?

           Please, just feel me now.
                                    You love me, right?


I want to melt with you -- let our souls collide...
Dissolve the boundaries between students and teachers.
        To bridge the gap in the great divide
        No secrets between us -- bleed into the speakers.

Feel the air in your chest, and ask God for a reason...
To stay or leave Him.
He makes excuses...

                                                     ­      ... Believe Him.
Bad Luck: In A Wakeful Contradiction : https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
Giving joy, getting joy, never coy,
Often pretty, always called a toy,
She sells all that there is to deploy.

And there is she who is demure;
A teacher whose job is secure.
Some say that all teachers are pure.

And there is he who is a professor;
He is his father’s successor;
Just like his father’s predecessor.

The first one we call a *****;
She prostitutes her body more and more;
But the other ones we adore.

The professor prostitutes his knowledge.
He also sells his precious time.
And the teacher too makes the same pledge;
Especially while she is in her prime.

We all ******* something every day;
Yet only the first one’s a *******; yay!
Hossein Mohammadzade
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