I am your dear teacher
Mere pawn on a game board called education
I am felicitated with laurels,
but rarely with silvers.
In my hands I mold
A clay figure of man
Whom to be the next Kings, Leaders,
and mere mortals.
They say I open doors for many
Yet they call me criminal for one’s own fault
But when a clay turns into a giant
All I got is a curtain fall
Whom they call hero for a day,
and a villain for the rest of the year
In my mouth is a reign for horse,
Jailed by laws, must have no feelings.
I don’t like your applause, nor your praises
But to treat us also human,
brittle with injustice of society’s prying eyes
Is more than gold for us.
I am your dear teacher.