Regarding Mr. Fate and Trish
By ice rivers
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.