did you do your best? she asks with a smile on her face because she knows but no ones going to admit, and i respond yes a chorus of voices laced with ennui. the kids theyre so bright and happy but i am a coffee stain on pristine paper. she stares back with her back against the blackboard smudged with the tears of broken chalk. hmm really. she asks us and we assure here yes with louder voices and her name, though it seems to be quieter. their thoughts are running wild and we prepare ourselves with mental armour on our faces. some choose to laugh and hide the fear for home while others sit straighter.
she passes out the paper with our lives on it and we cringe at the red marks across the paper taunting us with voices. we succumb to her because we succumb to them our parents and we succumb to the forces of pressure and empathy and all that is 'good' they look back and wonder why the power was so high, i suppose it was the only thing in our lives then. those who do well arent touched by an