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.