scholler

Just something I feel and wish to express.

I sit here in this room,

desk all aligned.

Waiting for those magic numbers.

 

I sit hear wishing for recognition

Some form of acknowledgment.

More so than I have.

More so than they will give.

A price.

 

I wish I had not wasted such time,

and money.

However this world claims knowledge needs paper,

And that paper equates to power.

Broken.

 

But that power is weak,

And depends on others views.

Madness.

 

That infuriates me.

If it is my knowledge,

Why is it co-dependent on others concepts?

Their ideas?

 

Idiocy.

Why is it that I can know so much,

And yet be so stupid.

 

Why is it that I can learn so much,

And yet never be more than moronic.

Why?

What is the point?

burn.

Is that paper so important?

Or the image it gives.

 

Is that debt so magnificent?

Is it so wonderfully gratifying?

 

demons.

Do I need to sell my soul to buy a house?

A car?

 

equality.

In this world of paper.

In this place of "given" power.

Can I really be free to grown into my own?

to became my dreams desire?