Broken Blade

I used to be a teacher,

As sharp as a well-made knife,

That was meant to be used roughly,

Every day to take a little punishment.

Tempered and sharpened over the years,

Hardened and indestructible,

But at the same time, flexible.

Slicing through problems,

So gently and delicately.

Like they were almost nothing.

I used to be a teacher,

Able withstand the abuse from students.

That’s part of a teacher’s job description.

You take it and if it wears you down,

You sharpen yourself,

And go back to work again.

But long have they been,

Desiring my absence.

All their efforts,

Focused on this task.

They missed no opportunity,

To sabotage.

Contaminate.

Humiliate.

To wear down my former sharpness.

They’ve done it.

They win.

I’m nothing but a useless dull blade,

That finally broke in half,

But I used to be a teacher.