Beauty is all earth,
History, Her-story naught,
  .  .  .  Else sheer vanity.

My teacher wears her usual stern face
Struts into the lecture theatre
Looking so stiff and aloof..
She is untouchable I knew
Well what could I do?

She writes some vague words
On the board...
And talks and talks and talks
Almost non stop
When she does stop finally
That is only to check on us
Whether we are listening
Whether we are dreaming
And she will start screaming...

We are always scared to disagree
Always agree... Always say yes
Yes teacher we nod..
We fake our understandings mostly

And she writes another big word
And talks to the entire universe
So in love with the echo of her voice...

We cant wait for recess
Or else we will die out of boredom
I just pray that our teacher
Would atleast allow us
To also talk sometimes..
To also write sometimes...
She cant always be doing
The chalk and talk...
The entire time
Can she?

. 

Everytime I hear No, its always .......MY FAULT
as the Brain drags me down this train of illogic
Anxiety Loops in unending Circles Spun to the Tragic
What can go wrong, then to feel like.......
Life has ***** me, And why is it always my Fault

The FIST FLEW out of Nowhere, Sucker punched
Slow motion falling as a..........
childs head bounces off the ground
Awaking to throbbing Pain,
my Pants around my Knees,
And why is it always my Fault.......JMF  9/28/14