Mathematics

Has always been a dimly lit room

The walls lined with sacred etchings

A single person

I'm told to remember every single one

"There is a test next class"

The shared groans resonate about the dark room.

The system was never perfect, never good.

It has always been a battlefield.

The victors stand highest but keep their heads tucked to their chest,

they know,

their victory is doused in the failure of their own allies.

If I could,

if I were myself such a benevolent force,

I would change all of it.

Cease this war.

No longer will you weep at the sight of math.

No longer would you stay awake 'til the young hours of the morning,

"finishing homework".

We must focus on our future.

These children are suffering.

W must make change.