there’s a fire

there’s a fire burning in the middle of this classroom

but you don’t feel the heat.

you don’t feel the urge to stamp it out.

beads of sweat don’t plague you

pencils engrave words upon you:

hateful, cynical, truthful.


I hate to be the one to fan this fire,

to see these flames brown the ceiling,

singe your schoolbooks,

but someone has to smoke you out of your seats

someone has to make you aware of your weight

or you will all fall through the floor.

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