The world wins.
I now concede.
Go ahead and cure my terminal disease.

Prescribe some pills.
My eyes fixed ahead.
The independent me is now completely dead.

I'll fit right in.
My smile really hurts
Grab your black shovel and cover me with dirt.

The grey cubicle walls
Are my favorite place.
I don a dull mask that covers my face.

I bow at science’s altar
I'm a cog within the wheel
Numbness permeates until I can’t feel