Red Ink (an acrostic poem)

Rallying all his reserves, Fannie pushed on

Every time the pen touched the paper

Doubt in her teaching competence would grow

 

It was always soul-crushing being an impartial arbiter

Now her hands were covered in the remains of her grading rubric

Killing her will to continue as her soul bled out on the page

 

Image: qph.fs.quoracdn.net/main-qimg-bdbbbf8f70be84c9ded8a8f24bec4496-c

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