The Moth And The Butterfly Poem by Sas Debray

A child is born,
He is squeezed in to a school,
His bald teacher had a cane,
Before it used to tame a bull.

At night in home
In lantern foggy light range
Itched his back, stripes of cane
Turned red memoirs of future revenge

Math was dark moth
Chalk powers of teacher's arrogance
Tried to whiten the moth - it fought
In mind of the child, who escaped 'cross the fence

Time made the child, man
But could not tame the bull within
That still recalls the cane and chalk
And injections of 'knowledge' in his skin

He colored the moth
With a free, soft, elastic 'cane'
Made it dance a lovely butterfly
And children learned to laugh and play again.

Thirty counting years
He showed the old bald man the butterfly
And questioned into his fallen guilty eyes,
About the cane that made his moth to die.

Two generations met
No words except sighs exchanged
One thinking, the other trying to read his mind
High time the global education changed.