The English Classroom

A HELPFUL GUIDE FOR PRESERVICE AND GRADUATE TEACHERS

And all of these dead hollow men roam the Earth,

Endless treks through thick terrain

Whipping themselves

Hacking at their own skin

Thinking, nay, deceived by their own admission

For they misconceive why we are here,

The primitive is gone, dead,

And what remains is something

Synthetic and cold,

Something far different from their ongoing premise;

And these hollow men will continue to roam,

Lost by their own confusion,

While opportunity surrounds them,

The waves crashing like the chimes of a clock

Dong, dong, dong

And this is when it all dies

This is when it all falls apart.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

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

%d bloggers like this: