adulthood.
some restrained feeling
of weightlessness. some glorified
illusion of freedom. someone's swan song
towards the next novel of their fleeting life.

graduation.
ceremonial sacrifice
to the beings well-versed in
control. we dance for the puppet
masters until we are nothing more than
cogs in this twisting, rusted machine.

change.
excuses aren't acceptable;
shut up and do what they say.
be the person they're molding always,
every second, as the sun falls down and the
moon reminisces on your beaten down dreams.

thought.
an unadulterated process,
at least, it starts that way. we start
like a blank state, tabula rasa theory and all.
we end up "cultured", crammed with discrimination,
hatred, disappointment, and drowning in the media's grip.
we are all slowly dying, becoming the very thing we swore to
forget.