The papers you have forced me to compose
After time, are things I can just dispose
What value do you see in works of these
That don't help students, even in the least.
Papers meant to expand one's mind's reach
Fall short, to serve only as mental bleach.
That turn white, the bright imagination
That so belongs to one's adoration.
The future, where one's life may truly start,
Is ignorant, totally worlds apart
The problems one might end up face to face
will be their fall, and your biggest disgrace
So change right now, the wrong ways of your school,
For your students, still a chance to be cool.