Clouds

Our thoughts are clouds 

We sit in a classroom

looking so proud

Our teachers restrict our reach

but my minds incomplete

We need the knowledge

which they can't teach

They use textbooks to be discreet

about the limits they set for one and each

Our clouds turn dark and start to condense

we lose imagination, at its best

We assimlate into the crowd

our clouds are grey squares

because we lost the fantasy to be unique and rare.

Again, our teachers restrict, the knowledge

which we should pick

we lose all hope and turn to drugs

to get back what is lost, on the ladder below us

on each rung.

Our clouds are no longer free

they're imprisoned in books

which we recite to memory,

"4 score and 7 years ago..."

we forgot how to think, and became so cold

each breathe so short

Our clouds rain hail

blunt and rough

killing all of us from below and above

No thoughts, no nerves, no smiles

it's a curse

they wonder why we pick up a pipe

it's because our teachers took our life.