The shackles of ignorance,
What a woeful tale indeed.
A story of isolation, of deceit.
A story that only ends in defeat.

It begins with a boy,
Happy as can be,
So very carefree.

The boy does not know,
That he too is tied,
In this world of lies.

The shackles of ignorance,
Chains every child,
Every boy, every girl,
It allows them to see,
Our wonderful world.

The shackles of ignorance,
So cold yet so warm,
They may tie you down,
But will never cause a frown.

The shackles of ignorance,
A gift at first,
As thankful you may be,
It is a curse indeed.

The flower of creativity withers and dies
from the waters of society's lies.

The petals shrivel and dip
from parents backbreaking grip.

The leaves crack and crumble
from those trying to be humble.

The stem breaks and falls
trapped in the cage of these walls.

The flower of creativity is now a distant memory,
the soil now becomes empty.

I wish I was smart,
I would already fit the part,
if only it was true,
I could finally pass through,
all these thoughts I bump into.

Oh how I wish I was born ignorant,
What a blessing that would be,
To not see the world that lies before me.

Oh how I wish I was born dumb,
To be filled with glee,
How I would live so carefree.

Oh how I wish I was born a fool,
What fun it would be to live my life like a tool.

Oh, this curse the earth has given me,
It tortures me and always ends with my agony.

The thinker within me wishes to die,
To live in the world of lies,
Oh how wonderful that would be ,
To finally be free.

The universe is so boring,
So weak,
The days always feel so bleak,
I really hate this week.

Intelligence a blessing in disguise,
Yeah right,
What a bunch of lies.

Oh, why couldn't I be born ignorant,
How happy I would be,
To let all these thoughts finally devour  me,
How fun it would finally be.

Oh I wish I was born with ignorance,
what a blissful wish indeed;
let it be known, that it was not so unfortunately.
Oh, I wish I was stupid, happy and carefree;
not knowing the world that lies before me.
Alas, I am not dumb, not filled with glee;
as I sit here writing painfully.
Bleak it may be, boring as it sounds, it is all I've found.
Life will go on, nothing will change, it is all so strange.