chalk dust on her hands

game chants in her ears

thirty heads a-bobbing

eagerly innocent dears

 

think she's like them, no

thoughts but right now,

her minds miles away:

why am I a silly cow?

 

daily strives to impress

ambitious hectic whirr

one bloke after another

none were right for her

 

as usual on auto-pilot

teaching maths by rote

kids get on her nerves

eyes beginning to float

 

snaps at little Nicholas

rushes out of the room

staff room in hysterics

suicidal longings loom

 

acute observation ward

a nervous break-down,

under sedation sleepy:

sorry I'm such a clown

 

discharged but not free

kids told of her holiday

back at the chalk-face

can't cope with the fray

 

unemployed now, alone,

lives in a one-room flat

sleeps most of the time

pills have made her fat

 

she's learned a lesson;

better to be yourself,

quiet life's best for her

even one on the shelf