The Puppet-Master's String

Occasionally in the eyes of a student I see the ghostly look of a much younger me Those troubled and painful looks of despair and hurt The reminders of adolescent self-reproach I felt while dancing from the puppet-master’s string An uncovered, mauled, and robbed young child’s self esteem The shy anti-social character of my youth A life prematurely frightened and distorted By the mirror of poverty and tragic death As a teacher, I adore all of my children But, there will always remain in my wounded heart A special place for the child on the master’s thread