Dance on Graves REVISED

That last poem I wrote has now been edited. Here is the new version-

DANCE ON GRAVES

You, oh teacher who knows no weary soul, let your students dance on graves. This is their reward for not making your headache any worse than it already was – permission to turn the cemetery into a playground. These are the men who fought and those who died and those who had no direction and thought Why not pick up a gun? You treat history like it doesn’t matter, and perhaps you are right, except that you are here.

You are here to reward children for mediocrity. This job, where you pour into lives of young ones, is nothing to you but a victory lap for the thousands Daddy paid to have you to drink and drug your way through four years of school. You will go home in hopes of making love to your husband, who might as well have been prearranged, even though he hasn’t touched you there in months.

The day is fast approaching where your complete disregard for the soldiers in those graves and your daddy nearing his is going to catch up with you. And you will repent. And you will likely divorce. Then you will repent for that as well, but I digress. Soon you will not reward students not for their ability to keep their mouths shut, but for the contributions they make that expand not only their knowledge, but your own.