Opression in the most minute of ways
Small tickings are what irritates me most
Like Shakespeare I could pen sweet notes to you
Enchained my creativity must plea
Why shall I feel the itching of restraint
So bourne of shakles I not need endure
Will come a ramble of such stifled words
Cruel sight upon your structured little world
I detest the enslavement of pupils
When we disect "the classic" (boring) works
Or via symbols create false reason
And why can't we have free-range of tasking
Such small a realm of options for mine ink
What can we do to face the crushing foe
My voice in unrestraint- "no course outlines!"