The Class Room Prison Cell We Forbid

The classroom stays still and bitter.

Thoughts crowd the students minds like drugs in veins thick and rotted. 

Those around me decay slowly as we unite in a world so cold and dark.

The clocks body lies frozen upon the white walls of this classroom. Nailed on a vertical plane, precious clock bleeds sorrow as time itself forces the hands to move forward.

A teacher talks but nobody listens. Words echo in my mind, penetrating the brain like sweet sun beam exposure; it glistens.

Crawling in a field of information, I am unable to grasp.

Desks hold up bodies with trapped souls, souls lying in a forgotten desks lap.


The teachers words blast from firey lungs to bullseye ear drums.

Eyes wide open stare into a professors uncanny emotion.

Text books spit words in my face. Worksheets laugh as I try to comprehend.

This is no way to learn. This is meaningless and has a purpose only in fault.

No more.

Back packs carry material which seems to be made of black stone.

Heavy and compressed it weighs fragile bodies down and destroys bone.

Windows open up a world to percieve. Windows open up a world to decieve.

Schools become institutions for those who have no more to bleed.

A class room becomes now a prison cell to thoughs that need.

Who could careless it seems, only a teacher that we forbid and keep at the gate of our dreams.

Having a worhtless teacher are nightmares I and many other forbid to have, yet we get trapped with cowards that don't undertsnad.

Judgements are not the jobs for those that wish to bring wisdom and knowledge to the lost.

Prejudice is a sin, and in the end will it be their life it costs?

Still I sit here in this classroom better seen as a lonely prison cell.

We all are trapped and until we are freed, we are in this complex hell.

Stuck with a teacher that could give a fuck less.

Oh, what is this...... Now take the test.






Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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