Even after 18 years of schooling
I was still not alarmed at how easy it was to be stuck there.
Contrariwise, for a while I was considering to stay even longer,
for a doctoral degree.

„Year after year
running over the same old ground
what have we found?”

Only two decades later did I become fully aware of that
schools are like mould-infested storage boxes
in which good seeds go bad,
living out their lives
numbed, crippled, throttled.

Do not fall asleep in there.
Get out while your spark is still ablaze inside of you,
no matter how scary it might look like outside of the box.

I yearn to hear a—
I made it out alive, I’m back!
„Wish you were here.”
Wish I was here.