I don't understand

how they can't hear it.

The screaming and the shouts

of the overlooked.

How do they just ignore

Those who are so obviously crying out

The ones who need the help

You're suppose to be providing. 

Why does it seem

Like I'm being pushinished

For being just a bit different?

I don't want to be

But I am,

Why am I being penalized

for a sick trick of fate

and the genetic pool?

Why are the ones

who are here to guide me

The ones who make me want 

to stay quiet?

And why are they so quick to defend

when I ask them?

You are suppose to be my teacher

my mentor, my guide.

But as of now

if feels like you are my warden,

just one of the seven I have throughout the day. 

This place is no longer of learning,

it is a prision.

And we are the prisioners

wrongfully accused.

We are the merger victims 

of the system that doesn't care

what happens to the outliers. 

The creators and demonstrators. 

We try to make a name for ourselves,

but only are rewarded gags made of scantrons

and shackles with textbooks to hold us down. 

My place of learning is a prison,

I hope that those who escaped,

those released on faking good behavior,

are right when they tell me

They're all bullshitting about the future.

Because if this prison is preparing me

for "the real world"

Then it is not a matter of counting down days

until my release

but until my transfer

to just a bigger cell.