Concerned hand

Shoots up

Riddled with

Purple tracks along

Vein’s corridors indicating

Another kind of shooting

Eyes glassy yet aware

Functioning child

Unknowing of what his

Path is to bring

 

I am not a social

Worker merely a

Teacher of social

Science but today

I must step up

Care about he who

Feels abandoned

Like the child of

Thirteen staring at

An unrecognizable

Image in reflections

Tying rubber around

Flesh to reveal veins

Like a roadmap of

Confusion

Outlined in purple and

Green feeling like ogre

Holding

Lighter to spoon

So as to continue

Breathing

Life mangled and

Torn in the

Impossible balancing

Act of

Syringe and

Responsibility

 

Momentary silence in

The class breaks

He knows that

I know

I know he is

Scared but that

Is no way to live

The rest of your

Life

I may teach history

But I will put his

Future in my grips

As someone did the

Boy of thirteen

So long ago

 

I will put his future

In my grips

Foster

Blackboard ambitions

Showing him

Life beyond

The syringe.