Perhaps I can say it was my passion
To think vividly and put that picture into a composition
To come up with silly adjectives and a strong emotion
But perhaps, I was wrong about that notion

This system that has corrupted me
Where compassion is much like the dead sea
Those students that hide their knowledge and secrets
All being sly and sitting beside their best bets

Reaching out a hand seems quite a challenge
With incapability to pick up a lecture seems like an overwhelming package
People were fascinated with lessons such as "competitive advantage"
When deep down inside, I was already damaged

Thank you, for creating a war inside my head
That expressing myself would be a dread
So judge me if I loathe this useless algorithm
Because in these words I now struggle to find the perfect rhythm

-j.t.