Trapped

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The creative type is a common misconception

perception allows you to see what you want to see

who you’d like to be, what will set you free? 

That does not have to be 

what anybody else sees.

Art is a form of expression, it can be 

whatever you want it to be. 

But when someone tells me 

my art isn’t good enough, 

how could they possibly judge it? 

How would they know the things that I feel and am rather than the things I don’t know and can’t.

I am sick of getting a grade for art, anything is art. 

Me grading a feeling or a thought,

or the taste of something sweet, sour or tart makes no sense. 

It’s not logical to put a grade on the creation of an original piece. 

Only the beasts say your art can or can’t, will or won’t, fight for it

or don’t, because this isn’t what the people want, 

this isn’t what will make you successful. 

Your better off in medical school, 

drooling into a book you have no interest in, 

studying for a test that will tell you if you are smart or not, 

and on a scale from one to one hundred. 

The department of education is crumbling down.

This is no time for the demise of the public school systems, a crisis is on the rise

from the rubble that is the DOE. 

A crisis so big, 

so in everyday life, 

so seemingly apparent to us 

and no one seems to see it. 

We have gotten so used to the routine of sending our children to school in the morning and then picking them up in the evening. 

Do you have any idea of what your precious angel spends 80% of their day doing 

every single day 

for eighteen years? 

I’ll tell you what I was doing. 

Shedding tear after tear,

receiving tests I did not pass yet studied for all night. 

Getting my report card in the mail and reading that I am slight-ly below average range. 

Telling me that when I get a bad grade its strange

but when I get a good grade because I cheated on a test that’s certainly not deranged. 

That should not be causing you pain, 

because the kid next to you got an 83 by studying and you got a 98 by cheating. The test was framed! 

It was not your work and you took credit for it. 

The test was framed! 

And is hanging in your living room next to your brothers swimming trophies and your sisters gymnastic medals. 

Is that something to be proud of? Cheating on the twenty fourth piece of paper you’ve seen, 

wasted trees cut down 

lacking life, 

lacking love,

lacking just to be. 

Kids spend 18 years of their life sitting behind a desk. From the time when feet dangled above the floor to legs tapping the parallel chair enough for someone to say “stop it!” 

Study for this test, 

make sure to do that homework, 

I failed the test, I forgot the homework, how will this help me in the real world? Just Drop it! 

“You need to know these things” they say, “you need to know this material”. 

And like the passive kid I was

I agreed,

and like the passive kid I am

I can’t foresee

a future for me,

using these, “skills” 

memorizing these “formulas”.

Trying to find just one answer,

a yes or no answer, 

a maybe so answer, 

a how the hell should I know the answer! 

This was me, 

for 22 years and counting, 

I don’t feel free, 

I can never just be. 

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