Regarding Mr. Fate and Trish

Lucien Fate, our favorite teacher

Had a spirit covered with rust. 

An overeducated creature,

Who lorded over high school middle crust.

Fate believed in wisdom through sorrow

And that each face could express it.

He lived life in love's tomorrow

But was too absorbed to confess it.

One Monday during block two

Trying to hide his sinner madness

He wondered if there was one in class who

Would dare to reveal their inner sadness.

Most uptight twelfth graders

Elected to take a pass

Future stretch run faders

Sensitivities of steel not glass.

Hidden among them, living on a wish

For the days the way they used to be

Sat an unknow soul named Trish

Who appeared too confused to see

The power of revelation

And the risk with which it's fraught.

Yet Trish made an invitation.

Lifted chin, opened wide her eyes

Ice blue windows to her soul.

Everyone in class was surprised

At this stranger's emotional control.

It was too much even for Lucien,

Beyond his over saturated exposure

So he cut into the confusion

To regain his tight composure.

While her classmates ovated

In admiration and relief

Lucien Fate hesitated

At this contradiction of his belief.

Struggling for wry words to say

To justify Intrusion

"Let's give Trish an award today

For expressing such illusion".

Trish shifted facial gears to neutral

Returning to the safety of boredom

If they wanted to think this was cute well

She sure as hell knew how to ignore 'em.

She also knew she'd put on a show

Famliar to her outta step folks

Who needed no reminder to know

The cold sting of hamstrung hopes

The devil was in the details

And the details have come to pass

Long before this poetic tale

Regarding Mr. Fate's sadness class.