My feet feel like they’ve walked 1000 miles

In shoes made of inch thick lead.

The load they feel they’ve carried

Is often in my head.


I am so often envious

Of people who can let things fly

It seems to me that unlike some others

I carry loads that I cannot let die.


I worry about some stupid things

Things I cannot control

I toss and turn and squirm

Thoughts tunnelling in to brain like a mole.



I worry too much about my students

And how they fare at night

The empty of love table

Of all the bad things that might


I sometimes give to much of me

To those who do not care

And some I wish I could take home

And parent them, I wish I dared.


The tales that could be told

Of students struggling to find

A life that they can live

A life that is just a little kind.


These stories I do carry

And it is not good for me

I try to let the stories go

But they will not leave me be.


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