'Klinka' by Ravyn LaRue

Ms.Klinka,
I avoided writing you a letter because I couldn't write the truth.
Now I have made my exodus and am back in the community I love.
The ties that bind have been severed.
And now -
I have nothing holding me back.
You're a wretched soul, nothing more.
There is no way in Hell you're a decent human being-
So there is no way in Hell you can be a decent teacher-
And there is no way in Hell you can be a decent artist.
The fact that you make fun of students for things like appearance-
Is shallow, immature and inexcusable.
And the fact that you dig deeper in your attempts at desolation is crueler-
To berate a person on accounts of love and harmless identity is wicked.
I don't understand how you can survive in the environment that is supposed to be home.
And it sickens me to think that you hold the same title as my hero.
Those who cherish and deserve the craft you've parasitically clung to berate you as much as I.
I hope that solemn fact rings within your skull as you writhe, sleepless, in bed.
You are deserving of all vitriol I could ever cough up, and more-
But you aren't worth the time I would take vomiting.
And I'll not to waste time on you, since you don't deserve the attention-
Since I don't doubt that's why you do it.
No one can truly be as ignorant as you in this day and age-
It's inexcusable.
So, for now I'll say that all the bad I've ever said about all previous tormentors-
It applies to you a hundredfold.
Sincerely, your highly berated, queer, fat, confident, incorrigible student.
P.S. As I left class that final day you said "Well, I hope you're happy."
I'm pleased to say that, yes, I am-
I am delighted, thrilled, and positively radiant in the presence of artists you could never hold a candle to.
I figured you ought to be made aware.