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What about those who fall between the cracks?

PERMALINK • Wednesday, 9 October 2013

I’m not attuned to failure.
I have no tragic back story,
No resilience like those who live
With a vial of strength in their arm
for pushing the ground away from beneath their feet.
I am bound to fail, with no quick-firing neurons,
And eugenics hasn’t given me wings.

This shouldn’t be the way,
Not when there are people learning on dirt roads.
They don’t need a whiteboard, only chalk;
They don’t need worksheets and textbooks,
Only one willing mind and fifty pairs of eager ears.

What right do I have to be woeful?

Since when did Optimism waste time?
Everything Takes time and effort,
But what if my train is pulling into the next station
and I’m standing here, still searching for my destination?
What about time lost with every second a red mark crawls
upon my paper, like a worm ready to feed?
Every time a red pens dries up,
My teacher exhausts patience.
She reminds herself
that I was once an innocent child
Who swam in an ocean of knowledge
three feet wide.

This isn’t about aca...

This is about hope.
Or what little I have left
Or that they take away
What good is blind hope?

Hope stands and taunts:

          You failure, don’t give up.

     You failure, you don’t know your limits.

This isn’t about numbers anymore.
This is about me
And what I have learnt
Don’t be careless.
Don’t leave out an addition.
Don’t cancel out hope.
Failure is giving up
And it seems like I’ve given up too many times to count.

I fail as a person too; I don’t
Challenge the process enough.
Oh, you just wait till
Somebody challenges the process.
In the meantime, keep handing out foam swords.
Wearied knights will find
Damsels fond of bestiality.

I inspire others though, but
that is just a euphemism
for “she talks a load of shit for
what she’s worth.”

Don’t tell me it’s easy
Because it sure as fucking hell isn’t for me.
Your argument isn’t substantiated
And your response is not original
Competent is a five
(Competition is a fight)
Sound is a four
(They don’t want us to make a single sou—)
And good just doesn’t cut it anymore.

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