A Dream At What Cost

at the bottom of my bag is a book, 

lying there like a security blanket I'm afraid to touch. 

my seat feels cold as ice as I sit down in the room where not one pen or pencil is seen in sight, 

because there is no paper. 

my heart beats loud in the quiet room, making me wonder if anyone can hear it, 

but of course they can't, with headphones in, bass boosting their brains so much that I can feel the floor beneath me rumble. 

when I was just a child, my parents told me that reading was my ticket anywhere, 

free knowledge a page away, 

but why now, when I open my mouth to speak about something real, does no one listen? 

why is it as if there's a screen behind me, captivating my peers, allowing them to gaze right through me?

why do we fear knowledge? 

why don't we try to know anymore? 

and why, as hard as I try, is it impossible for me to just pick up the book, and begin to read? 

the room goes dark as class begins, 

and slides rush past, with fake news broadcasted upon the bright screen. 

what would it be like, if we all could reach into our bags, 

and brave our fears, 

to learn?