This is pointless,
Fucking pointless!
This prison,
Of our own consent and volition.
We march in,
Day after day,
Game after game, again and again.
Teachers are wardens,
Classrooms are cells of confines.
Consenting to the torture, because it's an exchange for freedom.
Order by the bell.
Our mind wandered and destroyed.
That final bell rings it relief,
Only a short elapse
Till order again by obligation, and bills.
Ruled by the bells, Ruled by bills,
Ruled by rules, It's this system that's BROKE!
YOU ARE READING
Symptoms
PoetryPoetry. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Depression. Guilt. Regret. Struggle and Confliction. We may all be breathing, we may all have our hearts beating. But these are our vital signs. These are symptoms that prove we're alive.
