A Mental Cup of Fate
I’m alone, abandoned, forsaken to this world,
Roaming a lonely life with No One.
A walking target for hate, for “Take aim and then shoot”,
To be shot with a venomous gun.
What I do doesn’t matter, I’m a futile scrap heap,
My ego is crippled and broken.
I can’t make a suggestion to feel vital and relevant,
My professional poise is now but a token.
I once taught to the classes, taught like a dream,
Young minds were nurtured and grew.
I was in love with developing their new thinking skills,
So they knew what to discard or value.
My heart would race when I saw their eyes grow,
Saw their mind click with their own cup of fate.
That’s now all a history, now a mere dream,
My qualified polish’s a balding stagnate.
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