the aroma of fear clings to you like the stench of mildew on clothes left too long in the washer. i drink it in, relishing in your discomfort. you've been called out. your lies, all of your big talk, has been dragged out into the sunshine and put on display like butterflies pinned to a photo album. yet, you stand there, caught in the head lights of my confrontational style.
coward. what's it gonna be? i'm not going anywhere. go ahead. make your move. we're waiting.
ghost
Thursday, May 18, 2006
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im a highschool teacher. this year ive got a class of boys. 6 of them actually. they have developed the habit of bowing up to me any and everytime i say something to them, whetehr it be good morning or your assignment is due tomorrow. its a battle for alpha male supremacy im sure but they run their mouths all the time about how tough they are and how they will "kick my ass" since i am a teacher and they are still students and student ass kicking is frowned upon by the powers that be, i simply call them on their b.s. in front of the rest of the class and then embarass them into silence.
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