If You Were the Teacher I Looked Up To… If you were the teacher still walking these halls,I would sit at your feetnot just to learn how to hold chalk,but how to carry its purpose the way you do. I would tell youthe classroom has changed,but the war remainsburnout, broken systems, underpayment, silent struggle. I…
I ask my power on high.Why can’t I stay dry? No rainbows in my sky.Why can’t I stay dry? I don’t want to go high.Why can’t I stay dry? No matter how hard I try.Why can’t I stay dry? I just want to die.Why can’t I stay dry? Please NoteThis piece expresses inner conflict, not…
When the night leans heavy
and your voice thins to a whisper,
I feel the world test its weight on us—
There is something timeless about poems that touch the heart. They don’t need grand words or complex structures
