The Battlefield

Ah, I'm feeling stressed and anxious about school. I hate school, you hate school, we all hate high school a lot. With a great big F and some notes from me to you, won't you say you hate school too...

With all the expectations that this battlefield places,

Why is it so surprising when there are gloomy faces?

Challenge yourself, just work more

Quantity over quality, this is such a bore.

Top ten, grades, GPA, oh how my head aches

I still want to dream even as the morning wakes

Come on, let's go, chop chop, faster.

I can't control this circus, I'm not the ringmaster.

I don't know, what a sin, but does it really matter?

Success is not a thing that's served on a platter.

This tedious routine is such a bore.

I just can't take it anymore.

I need to do this, I need to be that.

I need to be a leader but also a doormat.

I need to work more, I need to work harder.

But all of my dreams are running farther

Away.

Paper scraps and pencil shavings are the remnants of my dreams.

I've given up and succumbed to pressure's evil schemes.

Ideals, perfection, fortune, and fame.

Are in the way of my dreams, and I'm the one to blame.

In the battlefield, I'm as courageous as a lion.

In the hunting grounds, I'm as arrogant as Orion.

But my dreams are becoming nightmares, plaguing me day and night.

Everyone's a royal without distress, but I'm still a black knight.

I don't know is such a sin, no one cares if it matters.

To them, success is a thing that's served on silver platters.

This goddamn routine is too much of a bore.

But why am I the only one who can't take it anymore?

I need to do this, I need to be that

I need to be a leader but also a doormat.

I need to work more, I need to work harder.

But all my hopes and dreams are running farther

Away.

Author's Note

pls tell me how to punctuate the ends of the lines