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