School (third version)

In here
I feel like a jailed dog.
An iron chain around my neck.
Doors locked, I can't leave.

Eyes, watching my every move.
Writing down when I breathe,
Measuring how much I move,
As if I was even dangerous.

And each day the same
8 hours of torture,
And then I am released.

A bit like a prison,
Where I am sent for every crime.

Or a lab
Where men, who dress smart,
Test new drugs
On poor little critters
Like me.