The journey begins with a death An uncontrollable heart rate And labored breathing if any Wheeled out into the too warm autumn sun Thinking it’s been a mistake That you were faking it Because you are a really good liar And nothing is as it seems You’ve been inflicted with imposter syndrome You can’t answer your students simple questions Even those on the verge of depression Instead you think it’s a cold You’re taken to the emergency room A good excuse to not teach the next day And they give you a shot of Ativan Which you remember your friends taking in grad school When like you they have a pile of papers waiting to grade And you go home but hours later You’re shaking knowing you’re going to die
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