Chance of Freedom
Education is freedom.
School is prison.
Inmates march down clinical white halls
in orderly lines
with uniform clothes, hair,
and prejudices.
Students leave home hungry
and thirsty
and return with heavier chains
to keep them from stealing
accidentally dropped
crumbs of knowledge.
They whisper in my ear,
"you can touch the stars,"
then nail my feet to the ground
and dare me to try.
They whisper, "whatever you need..."
then bind me and starve me
For the chance of freedom,
we are all willing captives.