There's only so long
You can hide behind social
Status,
And which clothes you wore,
And who was smartest.
You end up
In one of many places
When high school finally ends.

Maybe you were smart,
And wore pastel cardigans,
And you ended up in a pristine
University
Accross the country,
That you hate.

Maybe you're working
Full time,
In a little farm store,
Where the men there
Treat you like meat.

Maybe you're part time
Trapped
In a preserved piece
Of old America,
With guns hanging
Far above your head,
And beer signs
Tattooing the side of the building.

You'll be stuck in one
Of many places,
But wherever you are,
You'll have no idea where
You're going,
Because no one
Is telling
You
What to do
Anymore.