Her hair dangles off her shoulder

A single ponytail made from diverse strands

Dressed in different hues , she walks

And embraces new adventures daily,

She teaches with a smile on her face

With words embedded in her mind and soul,

Her body resides with Shakespeare

And lives with his sonnets and plays

Yet beauty defines her physically

For her literature is unparalleled,

Her poems juggle everyone’s vision

Yet appreciations clung onto her journal !

And humbleness steps at her doorsteps

For a teacher has a fragile but strong heart,

She tries to ignore our mischieves

Sharing every moment and bit with us

Amidst the studious atmosphere,

Her earrings define every class she takes

For she will be printed in our memories’.

They've no heart,so they feel not.
They have sight of eyes bluring,
Their retina captures far too short images of focus.
They have hearts deeper than ocean's debth.
They are full of reasons,
so we ceaselessly ponder,
with unending muse.
We give to them our hearts in market places of multitudes of feelings,
they've no heart,thus know not feelings,
they damage and ravage our pure hearts,hearts full of love,
we give truth and feed on lies

They fall to mischieves, paying rapt attention with soft fertile heart.
To unambigous clinical non-fiction sound of voice they frown at with rocky hearts of stone.
Though they sing with melodious angelic voices they have no melody,
They are extractions of men's perfect beauty,
Beauty,beauty which they took from us,
And to such beauty we're ensnared.
From our pain they've much pleasure,
They have no heart so they feel not.

Once upon a time,
A petite girl who smelled of pine.
Not so long ago,
was jumpy at her own shadow.
Spent the whole day playing in the meadow.
Had a many with whom she felt like second self,
who would keep all her mischief to themself.

As the time passed,
all her mischieves were a past.
As Went through the growing process,
her friends grew less.

She grew to be a loner,
every corner called her as their owner.
Considered her closed ones as gones,
leaving her with the purposeless dawns.

With her thoughts weighing upon,
she begged for an amusement to clap on.
Negatives filled her head.
She painted her childhood on the empty canvas,
with her blood so red.