A Teacher's Scrawl

An old report card stirs memories, raw,

that yellowed edge beckons, and I start to thaw.

'Could do better,' they wrote, in a scrawl so unkind,

a shadow that lingers, forever confined.

I buried it deep, under paper and dust,

where dreams of achievement crumble to rust.

Each letter a weight, a haunting refrain,

a ghost of the child who thought they could gain.

The laughter of friends, now tinged with regret,

while I search for a path that I haven’t found yet.

Those words were a dagger, sharp and precise,

a lesson in failure, I still pay the price.