Prose

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Stolen

written by: Sweet Insanity

My job has been stolen from me. "Excessed" they call it. No matter how hard I've worked and how many lives I've changed, they just throw me away because there is no money for the arts. The arts, that nourish our childrens' souls and minds. The arts that keep children out of gangs and help them achieve the test scores that get them into colleges and better lives.

Now my words have been stolen too. They just don't seem to flow like they used to. And I just feel lost within all of the jumbled emotions that can no longer find their outlet. My job has been stolen, through no fault of my own. And now my students and I are the ones that must pay for the decisions of others.

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