Photo from Google.com

Photo from Google.com


Green veins sticking out of pale skin

Beads of sweat like the devil’s hallmark

Across face, blinding eyes

Eyes, bright red, boasting lethargy

A dozen hand movements in the flash of a second

Incongruous as yet, without definition

Rise and fall, fall and rise of throaty voice

Thinning, deepening precisely at the wrong times

Air of authority that stinks

Dirty as the collar of your ugly shirt

The need to make a point

The point to make ends meet

The confusion in your mind

Becoming the confusion in our minds

The sleeping, groaning, chatting audience

These are your curse, poor teacher.



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