School is a prison,
A students hell.
They put us in rooms
Crowded and small.
We feel chained to the desks,
So cold and hard.
Rooms like jail cells,
Tiny and cramped.
A few lack doors
That lead to the hall.
And what windows
There may be,
They might as well add the bars
For all to see.
The warden comes,
With his stick hitting the walls.
An incessant noise
Like the screech of the chalk.
Homework is the ball,
Attached to our feet
Causing us to slug along,
To meet our prosecutors at the end of the halls.
