A Classroom Prison

Conversations permeate

Throughout the busy area.

Who the voices are,

What they could be saying...

It's all unknown to me.

Fingers point at another building.

Viewed from a distance,

It looks like a cabin

That often goes unnoticed

By those who can hope.

To those who can't, it looks like a classroom.

They only see one difference.

No one appears to be learning.

Instead, they wait for nothing,

For they have nothing to study.

I could be one of them,

A person born merely to wait

Until something or someone

Comes and takes them away.

Either way, I'd be waiting in a line

Which must be at a permanent standstill

As it waits for nothing

In a sleepy monotony,

Existing only to wait.

I only see one difference.

Viewed from a distance,

My building looks like a cabin

To those who cannot hope.

However, to those who can,

It's actually a classroom prison.

every minute

She watches you

every minute

of every hour,

thinking always of something,

even something minuscule,

to use as a tool

with which to cut your happiness.

she does this without care,

as though she were cutting air

which cannot feel the pain

and cannot see the blood

and scars she leaves behind.

she spends every minute

of every hour

damaging reputations

until they wilt and die

like plants neglected.

she mercilessly critiques

and puts us up to scrutiny

every minute

of every hour.

now, what's left of me

is lying in a heap,

for it is useless now.

every minute

of every hour

of its time in her presence,

it was dulled to nothing,

cut carelessly,

as though she had been cutting air.