Teachers

A Poem by fern

Teachers are paid to teach.
Not care.
Most don't.
Most do the bare minimum.
They teach, then they forget.
They go home to their own families.
But some.
Some care.
Some make an effort.
They teach, and they remember.
They think about students.
They try to help.
They don't make me think of the pills.
They don't make me think of death.
They make me think about how life was before.
They can tell when I'm lying when I say I'm fine.
They know which smiles I'm faking.
If only every teacher was like that.
Then maybe, just maybe,
I wouldn't have to think of the past to be happy.