A tight pain Grips my stomach Excrutiating Looking up No one is there. They're all laughing At me. For now, Laugh at The freak Bound willingly By chains and spikes To his own world. More like Bow down To this brave soul. Bow down Conformist pig! SCUM!! Pain metamorphoses To rage I stand Too tall Looking down Seeing up from before Laughing At the dolls All dressed the same. Look the same. Act the same. Are the same. I step on them Revenge fulfilled I lift my extremety To find They still live For you cant kill a doll. It has no life of its own. No brain of its own. No heart of its own. Society must dress it Think for it Live it's life The pain returns I fall Realizing I cant kill something With a million clones Coming afterward Also realizing These dolls are paining me And I can't do A DAMNED THING ABOUT IT! ...Or can I?
Reason for writing:
Take the dolls as a metaphor for all conformists. They make me sick. They ridicule everything foreign to them. Maybe if they took the time to look for their individuality instead of the latest trend, they'd live for themselves.
Birth sign: Aries
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