i hate school.  
hate this mold they push me into, day after day,  
this system built on outdated rules, just decay  
in the shape of classrooms and tests and noise,  
where they try to shape us like we’re their toys.  

they dream of a future with us all the same,  
workers, obedient, numb to the game.  
they think they’re clever, programming minds,  
but i’m not some machine for their factory lines.  

i’m human—raw, messy, and real,  
not built to follow, not built to kneel.  
it’s not about being different, it’s about being me,  
existing on my terms, letting myself just be.  

yet here i am, trapped eight hours a day,  
forty hours a week, wasting away,  
surrounded by people i can’t stand to see,  
with voices i wish i could mute permanently.  

they talk and gossip like radios stuck on repeat,  
no one shuts up, it’s a constant beat  
of nonsense and drama, nothing profound—  
even noise-canceling headphones can’t block out the sound.  

why should i suffer through this each day?  
i didn’t sign up for this, didn’t say “okay”  
to a life where i’m drained by their endless demands,  
while my own voice is silenced, restrained by their plans.  

i’d pay to erase them, to have peace of mind,  
imagine a button, like elliot, just rewind  
or mute the chaos, cut through the din—  
a world where only my voice gets in.  

because i don’t care about their lives, i don’t care at all,  
i’m busy keeping myself standing tall.  
but tell me why i have to sit and decay  
in a system that strips me, day after day?  

i’m done with their rules, their outdated schemes,  
i’m finding my way beyond their tired dreams.  
they want me to fall in line, to stay blind,  
but i’m choosing myself, leaving their system behind.