Deflation of a Naive Idea

I float in the living room
expanding upon all surfaces
edging out the air.

I am tired. I am flat faced and dead in the eyes.
I try to listen to the birds serenading outside the window,
the children racing and laughing,
the sweet spring breeze that stirs up the winter air in the house.

I know now the pettiness, the insulting,
the whining and meddling-
lying, cheating and short-cuts-
from the children, I expected,
but from colleagues and department heads,
supposed mentors of the young?

I am too kind-hearted for this work.

And as much pain, shame or other centrifugal emotions murmur,
this is something that is… difficult.