The fragile wisps of self-esteem are blown away by large red slashes

And bitter words of condescension that are meant to encourage but

Are not heeded by your mule-headed charges;

None are masochistic enough to accept your ill-conceived advice.

We are the unwilling anvils to your hammer

Beaten into submission, thoughts suppressed, and ideals

Censored to fit your own in order to survive nine months

Of your totalitarian rule, yet you cannot see our resentment

Or hear our mocking whispers.

You think you are doing right by us, teaching and molding us

But in the end, we emerge broken.