Featherweight

This pen
is such a bitter hope
and such a damning curse!
Quality , As policy;
forgotten, lost, or worse-
Struck down.
Mhm
Dropped purposely
To integrate the norm.
For all can work with
//Quantity// When care is no concern.
Your passion 's of no consequence
Your drive- wasting your time
That could be spent on Industry;
Relearning, running lines.
Regurgitate, collaborate,
Recite, Reduce, Refine!
More than enough thoughts go around
-Those I must use aren't mine.
Epitome- A fragile premise you cannot afford
It's saved for those
Who've used their years
Achieving perfect scores
In what they're told
They'll need to know
To matter in their time
If you have not learned to submit
You cannot cross the line.
Your thoughts corrupt what's proven true.
"In /Unity/ we 'shine' "