Friday, August 1, 2014

The Academy

I work within a beehive
of learning and of toil
I see the pupils pressing
and the faculty recoil.

I send and answer missives
which are largely froth and foam
and I break at noon for luncheon
and I break at six for home.

To what end are all these striving?
To what goal behind this game?
They are selling off their youthfulness
for letters on their name.

Makes no matter how you struggle,
you must all obey the same
cruel diktat that demands of you
more letters on your name.

If you think you reach the summit,
have a care and guard your fame,
there are millions queued behind you
for the letters on your name.

When your years are spent with sighing
and the Reaper makes his claim,
 R.I.P. is all I wish you,
final letters on your name.

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