we are words stitched together to make a skin
while the ink is our blood
our brains?
just a bunch of cameras monitoring whats around us
in such meaningful exaggeration

we are poets

You can see it in their eyes
Shifting back and forth
You can hear it in their lies, Spilling from their lips
First from their minds to their mouth then to the floor
Breaking me down till I’m not much more

I am not just a person
But the more that I show that I’m different, that I am me
There onions worsen
What’s wrong with society
And soon the others join them
I must admit, they look like they’re having fun
Making me, making us
feel sad alone and dumb

But I guess some of us were made to stray from society’s light
In order to be who, we are
So I’m stuck in an agonizing ongoing fight
Between conformity, happiness and reason