No

Child left behind

No

He was mine

 

Scholastic noose around his neck

strangling, cutting

off the life

Helpful hands, too naïve,

too slow

to staunch the wicked

flow

 

Casualty of standardization,

bureaucracy,

indifference

 

No one came to claim him

 

No wailing woman cried,

“My son!”

 

No forced diplomatic apology

 

Backs turned to the mess

hands scrubbed

sanitized of blame

 

His empty shell tossed in the weeds

like a soiled mattress

forgotten, ignored

monument of hopelessness

 

No

Child left behind

No

He was mine

 

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