Fed To The Wolves

Roll forth the dice, the hourglass tipped
 Conformity reigns, soon enough the hammer hits
 Imagination crushed, where brilliance once thrived
 Predictably they'll serve, as worker bees beneath the hive
 Assembly-line indoctrination
 Like heads of cattle herded home
 Some might call them pioneers
 Reality would call them drones
 Funneled out fast, from classroom to career
 Disciples at play, so bland, yet so sincere
 Pharmacy-fueled, cavorting as fake friends
 Whittled down dull, to shallow, uncreative ends
 Work, play and reproduction
 The three pronged trident-spear
 Impaling deep in wisdom's head
 How quickly youth can disappear
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 Atrophy as institution, dead
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 Siphon the lifeblood, extract the untapped
 Children resolved to uninspired epitaphs
 Follow their footsteps, vomit their concepts
 Thrown out the front door, fed off to the waiting wolves
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 Refine their tunnel vision, the best is left unseen
 Usher their role as ciphers, tin soldiers bound to the machine
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 Racing to the end
 Salivating tongues, lycanthropic scents
 Detect their future pawns, managers and malcontents
 Open doors shut, the canopy is caved
 Servility enshrined, next stop: the open grave