The System

The system thinks it knows what’s best
Lays out the work, makes up the test,
Steers all the sheep toward a character shearing
Making damn sure the meat has been dressed.

The system drills its mediocrity redone
A recycled pablum disguised as fun
Fiery hoops through which we sleepily pass
Granting credentials to those falsely done.

The system proscribes a pedagogical bent
My thirst for ambition has waylaid its rent
My fire and passion is blandly supressed
By a thoughtless robotic disembodiment.

But if the system finds you cold
Private maverick, you’ll get laid
You’ll need a place of safe resort
Protect you from its glacial ways.

The system knows it’s give and take
Get what you want, hypocritical fake
Hypnotic stupor you cave in your soul
Your epitaph echoes you never will make.

The system caters to those easily swayed
And grinds on those who’ll feel betrayed
I’ll break away, gladly sacrifice their plan
For me to express freedom I’d surely trade.

When the system comes to claim you,
You’d better wear a tie
If you want to garner greed’s rewards
You’ll not genuflect deny.

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