The teacher

Working on borrowed time Sleep a passing memory Creation a chain to be forged Crunching out the keys of the board Alone and tiresome Confused but implored We seek the strength to know more The delivery is an finite art Of complication requiring a simplified start Where the idiot and the fool do play its part In the transfer of ideas where you suddenly feel smart Light bulbs and blank stares A culmination of time passing As the droning tone becomes a morgue Or salvation Judgment is powerful Pressure is clear You stand always naked Before all of you peers The I don't knows The I need helps Become a stoic road block In your mental health Success is measured Not by your own stick But a governing power Unwilling to share tricks You live, you breathe, you die With all that you know Sometimes not enough time To put on a show