Four More Years (Torture)

Be cool, Stay in school

Psychology. Philosophy.
Sociology. Society.
Text books multiply.
Trigonometry. Cell biology.
Humanity. Idiotically.
Homework makes me cry.

Four more years.
Then, careers.
This goes on and on and on.
I pay for school.
I must be a fool.
This goes on and on and on.

Does it make sense to you
To do what it is I do.
I finished all these grades of school-
I hated it.
But now I give all that I earn for school-
I paid for it.

Torture
     Torture
I pay for it.
Torture
     Torture
I hated it.

Four more years.
Then, careers.
This goes on and on and on.
I pay for school.
I must be a fool.
This goes on and on and on.

The professor drones.
Oh- Can I go home.
I don’t think my brain’ll grow.
Not from hearing you.
Sputter till the hour’s through.
What has knowing this done for you?

Torture
     Torture
I pay for it.
Torture
     Torture
I hated it.

Four more years.
Then, careers.
This goes on and on and on.
I pay for school.
I must be a fool.
This goes on and on and on.
Torture
     Torture
Four more years.
Then, careers.
This goes on and on and on.
I pay for school.
I must be a fool.
This goes on and on and on.

Torture
     Torture
This goes on and on and on.
Torture
     Torture
I hated it.

© 2009 Dennis Shanaberg

My Review

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Reviews

lindsay

Hehe. I enjoyed this, probably more than I should have, mostly because I share your same sentiments towards school. Great job and rhyme scheme!

Posted 15 Years Ago

The repetition here is the key to it all. Learning has become a dreary rote for the writer and like a hamster on a treadmill, there seems to be no end to the cycle.
He struggles to find the difference between the lessons he has had to suffer through from one year to the next and the net result at the end of it all, seems hardly worth the endeavor. The career which is supposed to be the reward, seems a nebulous thing to the writer.
It is a peice written by someone stuck in a mode with no clear reason or objective relating to the day to day bind. All there is, is the vague idea of a career at the end of it all.
The writer is laying the foundations to his life but like all foundations, they are plain and ugly and often nothing can be seen of them but without them.....there is no beauty in life at all.