See the teal-haired girl in the back row
The one with dyslexia and a rough home
What can school do to change her fate
So she doesn’t die on a rich man’s plate
She fails tests not written for her caste
Assigned a number, reduced to scores
That whittle away at her strengths and core
Until even she believes she’s nothing more
Than a cog lost deep in a broken machine
Stripped of her dignity, hopes, and dreams
Tinder for burning, drought-stricken autumn leaves
Snuffed out all too early like earthen trees