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


Bleeding out onto linoleum floors

The janitors wiped the blood away before the

(other) kids came back.

Passing by in the hallways


What a shame.


I whisper back the same.





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