Trapped—ZenPens

Trapped

I don’t know if this is a story
Or a lamentation of depression
But which ever it is,
Just sip on your coffee and listen.

Would I call myself a ‘gifted child’?
What a rhetorical question; let me just say I wish to be called ‘gifted’
But then like they say, “all fingers aren’t equal”
So I’m pretty much the ‘hardworking and dedicated child’
That was my good luck charm through primary and secondary education
Until it turned sour in the university.

What is a ‘University’?
Well to victims like me, it simply means: ‘a court house of injustice’
A place where the culprit roams about freely while the victim is convicted and detained.
A place where it isn’t about how well you study
But how well you give out your body
A place where hard work is shunned
A place where dedication is called a waste of time
A place where decency is a punishable crime
A place I got sentenced to life imprisonment [Never-To-Graduate] For what charges? ‘Hard work, dedication and decency.’

It’s been nine years and counting…
I serve a term of injustice
But then, who would bring me justice?
Who would save me?
For I am trapped.

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