Chance of Freedom

Education is freedom.

School is prison.

Inmates march down clinical white halls

in orderly lines

with uniform clothes, hair,

and prejudices.

Students leave home hungry

and thirsty

and return with heavier chains

to keep them from stealing

accidentally dropped

crumbs of knowledge.

They whisper in my ear,

"you can touch the stars,"

then nail my feet to the ground

and dare me to try.

They whisper, "whatever you need..."

then bind me and starve me

For the chance of freedom,

we are all willing captives.