This poem is not important.

It's not written in size twelve Times New Roman.

This poem could hold the meaning of life

The cure to the common cold

The solution to world hunger but it doesn't matter

It's not written in size twelve Times New Roman.

My English teacher has told me that this will get a zero

This won't even be looked at

It will cease to matter and when things that are forgotten

They will fade from existence entirely given time

All this because

It's not written in size twelve Times New Roman.

This could be the desperate cry of her student

Looking shame-faced at the ground

While parents roar and growl and yell and finally ask

"Is there something wrong with you?!!"

And the echoes of that phrase

Will bounce through the student until it stops in the chest

Coiled around their very soul but this plea will be ignored

It's not written in size twelve Times New Roman.

This could be written about a generation

Saturated with promises and starved a world that they borrowed from us

And by "they" I mean a generation who thrived in the day

Where racism and sexism was smiled on

So to keep their throne built on bones they've stuffed us

The dreamers the thinkers the storms with skin

Into institutions made to keep us complacent

Memorizing doctrine to keep us in line

While our own protectors kill our brothers and sisters but nevermind that

It's not written in size twelve Times New Roman.

This next bit's important.

It IS written in size twelve Times New Roman font.

I am fine. We are fine. And this is true, because it's

Written in size twelve Times New Roman.