Welcome to Prison...I mean, High School.

Slowly make the treacherous walk to you prison.
In a heavy daze, drag your feet, and walk with your inmates.
Nobody speaks, nobody makes eye contact with one another,
yet the thoughts going through your mind are carbon copies of one another.
The heavy door swings open as the air from the outside seems to have come from the inside.
Welcome to Princeton High School.
The wardens are lined up as soon as you enter, where you expect a hello,
you receive a lecture in disguise.
"What a cute dress" translates to "Let me keep you next to me until I'm able to determine if it is long enough so that I may find another way to punish you."
That's the craziest thing about this prison.
There is another Jail inside of it.
You think you lose almost all of who you are in these walls? Do something wrong.
Not wrong to society, wrong to their 300 page rule book they add to hourly.
You will be placed in solitary.
It's almost laughable, how hard they try for such stupidity.
Give me my lanyard, everyday my ID brands me like a cow.
Taking away the spirit of the class, just to replace it with detentions and more time in solitary.
They hold our hand, and treat us like we are four, but will push us out of our nest one day and expect us to fly.
We have to be so strong, and work so hard, but there is so much else going on in life.
They don't understand, and they don't try to.
Unless you cause their ratings to go up, you are just another passing face, looked up and down like a piece of meat, inspected for perfection.
198 days..198 days left in my sentence until I'm set free. No more being known as number 49.
I can finally just be me, I can finally just be Lizz.

I am a ceiling Fan

What am I?

Always there for you.

Waiting patiently every day until you need me.

When your hot head walks in, no matter what my day is like,

Without hesitation, you USE me to cool YOU down.

No matter what you throw my way, I keep perfect rhythm.

I can work faster, or slower, and the end results will be the same,

Perfect.

Until every once in a rare while I lose it.

I work so hard to give you comfort,

Sometimes days without breaks.

I didn’t sign up for this, but there is no escaping.

A fan missing a panel is unbalanced, not working,

Where even little, slow work is so out of control it’s scary.

What do you do to fix me, to help me?

Nothing.

You know why this happens? Because you never fan me.

It doesn’t cross the minds of the selfish that maybe,

The help they have been receiving is exactly what they need to be returning.

If a fan gets hot, they cool themselves,

And can never rely on anyone else to do it for them.

So do me a favor you have owed me for far too long,

Unplug me, and let me go.