Fallacious Preceptor

I can't stand you
Your bitter ways that say
"I don't care what you want"
Yet your ways press on me like an iron
Scalding my skin
But eventually the pain is numbed
The skin no longer feeling.
Your imprint is still there
Though i cannot feel it
The smoothness of years
Inconsistent with the holes of foolishness.
It spews out with the press of a button
Hot like your anger
But what can a wrinkled sheet do?
Besides become flattened by resounding pressure?
Don't worry
The wrinkles always come back
They always need smoothing.
Is that your intention?
Like rocks we become
Silent but smooth
At least in your eyes.
But brimming just beneath
Just beneath that calm surface
The rough layer lies
Like a duck on the water
Kicking...
Just waiting for the chance to fly away.
Was this always the point?
To silence the mind
You spent 12 years making?
Taught to speak, but told to listen.
Taught to argue, but never given the chance.
Taught to write, but given no paper.
Did you mean to create such ability
Only to cut off all outlets?
Examine your foundation
I think you've lost your vision.