“Education”

My papers,

My theses,

My main points,

Have more purpose,

Than I do.

As a writer,

Instead of my mind as the creator,

My hand has been enslaved,

To their rubrics of rules.

My voice has been terminated,

My thoughts must be confirmed, cited,

And my purpose has been compromised.

It’s terminal,

And they dare to encourage,

“Please! Use ‘I’!”

“This is your work, after all,”

I have not been stripped of my identity,

Instead it’s been falsified by my own hand,

And called “education”.