Waiting for the exceptional revelation
Of my knowledge born of College elevation
Renders me stuck Art and darkness rebounding
Floundering
Debut
The news in you is the Good News in me
I am neo-Colonial Hindu advertised history.
Save me
Let me be
Just don’t tell me
What the schools needed to know:
An English throw, to wake me up
After I was jammed, in the photocopier room.

AI Summary

Your poem circles the frustration of waiting for some grand intellectual or spiritual breakthrough — the “exceptional revelation” promised by education — only to find yourself stuck between art, darkness, and the inherited weight of colonial identity. You weave together the language of college aspiration, Christian “Good News”, Hindu self‑narration, and the absurdity of being literally jammed in a photocopier room, turning that moment into a symbol of how institutions freeze, flatten, or misread you. Beneath the humour and the cultural layering is a deeper plea: to be saved from the roles history assigns you, to be allowed simply to be, without the English throw, the neo‑colonial script, or the expectation that knowledge alone will liberate you.