Reprimand

And I have so much I want to do with life,
But you’ll never be a master.
A master.

So I pick and I chose,
But damn it, it’s true,
What I don’t practice I lose.

This is what we call civilization?
An environment that stifles creation.

That kid with all of the voices in his head,
Maybe he was born to write a play.

And that girl, yeah she’s blind,
Maybe she is meant to be creating with clay.

That boy diagnosed with A.D.D.,
God forbid he was just born to be free.

But we gave him a pill,
Because his energy was lost in translation.
And now you should see him,
If he forgets to take his medication.

Do we wonder why our society,
Reeks of addiction?
All of our outlets,
Taped off with restriction.

No, he never wrote a play,
His attempts, always interrupted,
By an extended hospital stay.

And the clay hardens and breaks,
Untouched by her hand.
Another case of stolen art,
Reprimand.

And he’s,
He’s doing well.
But he’s fooling himself,
His happiness reeks of that awful smell.

Maybe I’ll never be a master.
I choose that.
Over being forced and funneled,
Into this reoccurring disaster.