The desk is a prison cell
This classroom is a jail
Where the rules are sit down and shut up
Even if you want to yell.
If I could speak my mind,
I would never quiet down
I would scream to the heavens
That the system makes us blind
If I could speak my truth,
I would ask to read the classics
Bronte and Wilde and Hemmingway
And Conan-Doyle’s famous sleuth.
I would ask to learn more history,
Not simply whisk through
Skipping all the interesting parts,
Because there can’t be any mystery.
I’d ask to learn about beliefs,
Even the parts they try to hide,
The killings and the judgements,
That caused so much grief
I’d ask to learn of possibilities,
Not only concrete facts,
Things that may be true,
But have little credibility.
If I could speak of the pain
They cause us everyday
With the pressure to be perfect,
I would let them know there is no gain.
But if I did so, my good grades would drop,
My teachers wouldn’t look at me
With affection anymore
So I make these angers stop.
My desk is a prison cell,
My teacher is the warden,
So I sit down and shut up,
And I choose not to yell.