Poetry Saturday: Why I will never be a school counsellor

Can you miss something you never had?

Perhaps it will pass me by

Like school children in the hallways

Whisper what a shame, what a shame

And I whisper the same.

 

I have lived past 17

This should not have been

A semi-possible dream.

 

And if a kid breaks in a school

They make a sound like

This

Bleeding out onto linoleum floors

The janitors wiped the blood away before the

(other) kids came back.

Passing by in the hallways

Whispering.

What a shame.

 

I whisper back the same.

 

 

 

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