Whose gun is at your head?
Tomorrow I graduate,
And feast on my heart; they're giving it back.
Only small parts though...
Freedom is not exactly free.

As I tick through a day that doesn't feel
     R. E. A. L.
I'll remember a time when eating clocks
Was a delight
And night never came
Because time never sung.

But what will tomorrow bring?
The final burst of detrimental metaphors and acidic teachers egos,
Who depend on a pay package
"Not enough" for their knowledge.
They should've stayed human.

I wince as the cogs twist
And an ever continuing robotic system
Chomps down on thousands of more souls.

And I beg for new a freedom.