Trainers

After those long hours in wake
When the eyelids want to embrace
The mind has questions
The heart has no answers
Hours spent in a desperate push
To help some do better than others
Yet within it seems empty
A shell of their former self
So many dreams that have faded
Shunt, destroyed yet helping others reach
And a vacation is spent in an agony
For all their dreams are long dead
The class rooms, their mecca
The markers their voice
The souls that come and go
Are but a metaphor
Of their pipe dream.