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.