Been a while since I posted some writing. Hope I've still got some fans who'd like to read it. I hope you enjoy my piece, "Teacher".

Before you grade too harshly,
I know that misery is not something
to which one can lay personal claim
and happiness is no birthright.
There is no sole ownership of
injustice, to desperation and to
longing. Only sorrow and fury
are ours alone, and only that if we
happen to possess original eyes,
another phenomenon not bestowed
upon all, believe me. Each one of
billions is owed a vast nothing
and must learn to expect even
less and embrace more with
one arm while stretching with
the other to grasp at whatever
entity might be there, or to
keep crawling on one’s own,
if need be, and in the end we
all rise to turn in reams of worn-thin,
smudged papers for grading, so
if you fancy yourself a teacher
then I want you to know that
not all of our stories are going to
fit the shape inside your skull
comfortably, and skulls do not expand.
But if they are our hardest work
with what we’ve been granted and
what we grabbed at first chance,
then if we can’t expect an A
because happiness--no, ease--
is not a birthright, then misery
loves a little embellishment
now and again, doesn’t it?