Same Teachers, Same Molding

Do you know what it's like?

Or have the waves of age wiped your memory...


Age is like that.

Focus on the present, 

forget about the past. 

Lose yourself in the anonymity of adulthood

and don't look back.

"Become like us."

I don't want to grow up if that means

becoming like you.

You. All of you.

The filing of adults through a 

young, sweet, impressionable girl's

pathless and wandering life.

You're supposed to shape me,

shape my life,

my world.

Their worlds,

their lives,

you're supposed to shape them.

By changing your students lives,

you've adjusted them similarly.

Tweaking this, shifting that,

until we are all the same. 

We are shaped by the formless entity

to grow old

and become the formless entity.

We look like you, now.

The waves of age washing me clean of myself.

Focus on the present,

forget about the past.

"Become like us,"

we chant.



I love telling people what's what. If that means doing it through the keys on a computer, so be it. Teachers and mentors need to understand that we are all so different in so many different ways. Whether that be learning styles, cultural backgrounds, sexual preferences, even just our personalities. We are all different shades of millions of colors, but we are treated like the same pale shades of the same two colors. They are raising us to be like them, creating a cycle of uniformity. That is what I wanted to bring to light with this poem.

It was crazy fun.

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