They talk in circles, tight and neat.
Each word a chord, each step a beat.
I match their tone, I fake their flair,
I become a hollow shell to fill the air.

They smile in sync, they laugh in rows,
and I contort where their flow goes.
A single slip, a stumble shown,
could leave me standing all alone.

I change my voice, adjust my pace,
erase my quirks, redraw my face.
They shape the mold; I squeeze inside;
my true self shoved and cast aside.

Their rules are riddles, quick to switch;
a word too poor, a joke too rich,
and suddenly, the air turns cold.
Acceptance slips; I lose my hold, because conformity's a ...

But now I see the endless grind,
a race to please, a cage for minds.
Why chase a place I'll never claim,
when I can stand and own my name?

No more I'll bend, no more I'll try
to fold myself for every eye.
I'll stand apart, no crowd to please;
I'll claim my space, I'll find my peace.