Styx and stones

Tue, 09/10/2019 - 17:36 -- SophyF

He pinched himself, as if in a dream

and plunged into the mass of students,

bubbling over one another and spilling through the corridors, 


Pulling markers across the walls and ripping his hair by the root,

smearing sticky gloss over their lips and giggling when he turned,

they inhaled the ax body spray heavy as water as he floundered,


His skin slowly thickened,

built up sheet by sheet of flesh until

the insults ricocheted,

the gossip couldn’t scratch,


Spinning through the battleground where pencils flew like spears,

he slaughtered the homework assignments like trojans,

played on his teams like a hero,

truly invincible,

and emerged, ready to take on a new challenge.

All it took when he walked to the new field was

a grizzly bearded teacher with

eyes set in marble and hair like wire.

He stood for the current event, telling tales of tragedies 

lyrically, tales that have threaded on through time

the students with heavy eyes and flesh, once animated, now weary, nodded off 

but the teacher, alert and intentional

drew back his lips and shot 

a single sentence 

“please sit down Mr. Murray”. 

The words flew through the cold air and hit him

all the work and strength gave out from underneath

he crumbled.

This poem is about: 
My community


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