Data Analyst, Fuck This Please

This lecture encasing mediocrity
It makes me retch in disgust.
Robots being trained tirelessly
On the path of being a data analyst.

Data analyst, fuck this please
I don't want to be a data analyst.
Frequency distributions, medians & what not
These robotic tasks for a human me.

No, I say no to this setup
This setup of perpetual desensitization.
Numbers & figures, data abound
Flickering figurines, ticking sound.

All that's achieved is nothing at all
All being lost, all dissolved.
What good is being good at calculation
"To help this nation", you may say.

I say it again, I won't contribute
No, not in this moronic way.
Tag me dumb, call me stupid
But not a data analyst.

You're Fucked, My Dear

She looks at the world through her bubblegum lens

Says made-up words to you. 

And roams the streets in her flowery dress

Then through her eyes, the bubblegum sky loses its blue. 

The sun shines bright, blinds her unsure sight 

Can't tell false men from true. 

Happy as ever, flying her kite

Till a hawk tears it, she loses hue. 

She runs back home, crying big fat tears

She hits her bed, and weeps some more. 

She does get scared, first taste of fear

She felt a chill, numb to her core. 

Valium Pills and Popsicle Sticks 

Were her best friends, for evermore. 

Daddy told her, "don't be in a fix

I have meds for you in the store."

Day after day, and week after week

Month after month, year after year. 

She took those meds, and now she reeks 

You're fucked my dear, I hope you know.