Teacher.

Pain follows me in this field

Rattles behind me

Like tin cans tied to a car

Traditionally a joyous moment

But once the honeymoon is done

You’re cut so much

That sometimes it’s hard to sleep.

Published by

sulawrites

I am what I write. Right or wrong.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s