89. Façade

Down the campus path I stroll,
Inner peace upon my air –
Yet these students on that knoll
Counteract it with a glare.
In class, my dictative voice
Is primed, pristine, and refined;
Still, those lacking it by choice,
Less-than-pleasant they might find.
My manners: sweet and cordial
My smile: inviting, real, warm
My face: fresh, calm, youthful
My friends: I don’t have but one.
What is missing? I don’t see
Why these animals hate me.