For years you've been hiding in this Forever Secure shell Six-Seven storey high

when there is no one to make demand on you

and you don't make demand on yourself

and you just lose touch with the world

your students, their world

their exam system

their songs

their joy

their sorrows

you feel

you don't belong

to them

to the school

to the staff

to your profession

to yourself

you feel

you can't be of any help

to anybody

and life withers

in front of your eyes


It's just not the kind of life you want

but there is no escape

and you sit back there again

and go on watching that withering plant wither

after a fresh breeze which a while ago seemed to have given it hope

Dust settles

and you become a part of it

settle or rise

as the wind blows or dies

not remembering where you have been

not caring where you will be

just drifting down

down down

into the





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