Preference

Distance
Isn't judged by the space between our feet.
Innocence
Isn't counted in numbers whole and neat.

And the halls are filled with slouching ghosts
And the teachers claim to know the most,
But refuse to say a word.
And the hearts of crowds are sacrificed
And the heads of hunters are enticed
To gouge through every word,
And this is the hell that is preferred.

Brilliance
Isn't getting awards and the highest grades.
Deviance
Isn't letting your colors dry and fade.

And the halls are filled with dying kids,
And the truth is what the rules forbid,
Not allowed to say a word.
And the mazes are kept so precise,
Though the problem is the starving mice,
Craving every kept word,
And this is the hell that is preferred.