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#classroomlife
Sailing through the ocean of learning, where classes start with dates and a group of so called classmates. They were supposed to support, like cheerleaders behind each other’s efforts. I realized long ago, classroom is just a show, but never knew there also lived an echo of ego. A broken mirror never makes you smile. Some eyes only talk to classroom tiles. Strangers clap for the art, love the artist, but here students cheer for the face, visual and blank, artful grace. Harmless, simple soul, is talking with me really that painful? Beautiful eyes avoid my smile. Those stings, it’s been a while. Strangers are those people I know. Jealousy overlooking class, true like blurry glass. Yet ,happiness wanted to share its clue. Seen news, but reactions unseen by views. Like always, I am the most unwanted news. Maybe a small achievement, Doing something well treated like punishment. that’s why no flood of good wishes like the class leader,when they get so much over a small incidents. Dear reader, after a long study session, my phone danced with surprising information. A small poem I submitted got fitted right into The 'Writing Cafe Journal'. Maybe a tiny thing to see, but bigger than a star to me. Thesilentobserver found a place there with “Rooted in Your Light.” For a moment, life felt somehow fair. No one heard the melody I wanted to share. Tiny dove didn’t care. Polluted classrooms live within broken scales. Art goes unnoticed behind a taped veil. If you read this, remember, I love every reader who connects with me through their pain. Pain is carved here. Thesilentobserver is just a name. I wish my reader a painless December. You are not a stranger ,we are in a same journey ,unnoticed passenger.
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May 9
May 9, 2026 at 8:53 AM UTC
Classroom scene 009 - Echos of Ego
Sailing through the ocean of learning, where classes start with dates and a group of so called classmates. They were supposed to support, like cheerleaders behind each other’s efforts. I realized long ago, classroom is just a show, but never knew there also lived an echo of ego. A broken mirror never makes you smile. Some eyes only talk to classroom tiles. Strangers clap for the art, love the artist, but here students cheer for the face, visual and blank, artful grace. Harmless, simple soul, is talking with me really that painful? Beautiful eyes avoid my smile. Those stings, it’s been a while. Strangers are those people I know. Jealousy overlooking class, true like blurry glass. Yet ,happiness wanted to share its clue. Seen news, but reactions unseen by views. Like always, I am the most unwanted news. Maybe a small achievement, Doing something well treated like punishment. that’s why no flood of good wishes like the class leader,when they get so much over a small incidents. Dear reader, after a long study session, my phone danced with surprising information. A small poem I submitted got fitted right into The 'Writing Cafe Journal'. Maybe a tiny thing to see, but bigger than a star to me. Thesilentobserver found a place there with “Rooted in Your Light.” For a moment, life felt somehow fair. No one heard the melody I wanted to share. Tiny dove didn’t care. Polluted classrooms live within broken scales. Art goes unnoticed behind a taped veil. If you read this, remember, I love every reader who connects with me through their pain. Pain is carved here. Thesilentobserver is just a name. I wish my reader a painless December. You are not a stranger ,we are in a same journey ,unnoticed passenger.
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