Four corners, four sides, 3 60 degrees
Not a place where the vastness of learning can be squeezed
Reduced and compressed and trimmed to a tee
And I'm the subject of your tests
As you try and do the same to me
You think we won't realise
But your dealing with the wrong eyes
Because I'm one of those who see
Straight through those geometric lines
Those confines
Where all that you tell me
Is here's what you do to pass your exam
But shed no light on how to develop who I am
You Feed us the answers
Shoved down our throats like pills
A quick fix so you need not worry about my skills
As long as I match up with mark schemes created by you
Filled with only your ideas, and nothing else will do
That's the narrow standard against which I'm measured
The tight square in the vastness within which I'm teathered
Well If I'm the angel born with wings, and you're meant to teach me to fly
Please explain why you have plucked all my feathers!!
Clipped at my wings first in halves then in quarters
Stripped me down bare
Of dreams and endeavours
So instead I must walk
And gaze up at the heavens
In which I would be flying
Had I not been severed
To fit in four walls
The world outside censored
Instead here's the textbook
All the information you need
Read it again and again and again
You've got to read it until your eyes bleed
Pain and strain, and be blinded by the redness
Let that be your holy creed
So in the exam you need not think
Nor invent, nor create, nor expand, instead you'll simply continue
to
shrink
Remember the creed? We should've stopped those things long ago
Just bleed and bleed and bleed