They walk in ranks, all clad the same,
No colors bold, no voice or name.
In their pursuit to balance scales,
They’ve forged a path that sadly fails.

They cry for rights, for leveled fields,
But lose the spark that freedom yields.
For in the crowd, where shadows blend,
Uniqueness meets a silent end.

To stand apart is to be free,
To claim the gift of “I am me.”
But those who chase what others own
Find they’re more lost, not closer grown.

For equal steps on weary ground
Can bind the soul, its spirit bound.
No one so low as those who cling
To sameness as their guiding thing.