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

 

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