Faucets and other deep things

I had to write a poem for school. So I wrote a poem. About not wanting to write a poem... is that even grammatically correct? Oh well, here it is. Prepare yourself, there's lots of deep questions ahead.

To be made to write a poem,
To be forced.
Where is the beauty in such an action,
Where is the soul?
Is there freedom of speech
In being told how to speak?
Can creativity to provoked to life,
Like a machine?
Is the soul just a faucet,
to be turned on or off?

Note: Our soul is the faucet and the world is a sink. Sometimes it gets filled with dirty dished and the drain gets clogged, but all you need is a little soap. And maybe one of those scrubby things. Oh, and one of those garbage disposal thingies, too. You should get one.