The System
You told me to stop
Don't be creative
Be mechanical, logical
No imagination
My pencil scratches
Across the paper
My eyes are glazed
I dare not think
You told me no
I cannot be
Thank you for that
For crushing my dreams
I’m part of the system
So like a machine
There goes my pencil
It’s all out of lead
To you, congratulations
You won, It’s dead