Brick House
Brick House
We call them bricks.
Cold, hard and clueless.
Stacked together, creating a thick wall of ignorance.
Unwilling to learn, resistant to change,
Eyes dull and confused,
with faces as dry as the day before.
Dragging themselves to their designated seats,
not expecting much from their day.
No energy, no enthusiasm,
no imagination or curiosity.
Just there to fill a space.
We shake our heads at the occasional shout of a wrong answer,
a spit ball, or a fight.
Helpless and hopeless
we go on, speaking to no one in particular.
No amount of planning can spark their interest.
No measure of strategy can help them to understand.
A last glimmer of hope concocts ideas of action.
Hoping to make a difference;
to convert their mentality from complacency to achievement.
Our attempts are rejected.
With deliberate defiance we are met with objection.
The lack of support produces disappointment and regret.
A new found disdain hovers over us.
Optimism is a fleeting thought.
Helpless and hopeless we go on,
Speaking to no one in particular.
Copyright © Sonia Trimmingham | Year Posted 2016
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