How tiresome your idiosyncratic selves!
We’ve seen these acts done better
A thousand times. You’ve nothing to prove
Except you can work in silence competently.
Don’t you see? Aside from trading
Ignorance for knowledge your needs are irrelevant.
This school is not your crib where parents,
Knowing your frailty, dote on your cry.
Of necessity they misled you to think
You merit our jumping, or that you’re due
A roof, new clothes, French fries, at a whim.
Your senses likewise lied: this world, that
Appears at your waking and fades with your sleep,
Is ponderously stable and does not revolve
Around you. We, hot stoves, and junkyard dogs,
Batter those misconceptions from your head
With lead pipes of wonder or threat
Hoping your native curiosity will one day
Tire of our chase, rise, and lead you
Regularly and eagerly to the light.
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