A road diverged, into two
And sorry beloved you cannot travel both
Be one traveller, long to stand,
It's personal, a race to run alone
Look as far as you can
To where it bent in the undergrowth; and see how the
Mortal Society is in a state of constant flux,
With a factor that has never changed.
The majority conform to whatever is normal at the time.
Many sorrows come as consequences of having faith, sitting idle and hoping.
Don't play the role allotted to them because conformity is constant,
for humans are social creature who are always imitating one another.
Pride goeth before destruction, And a haughty spirit before a fall.
They are oppressed by there lack of freedom, thus are drawn to those who are most fluid and flunt their difference.
Be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence: that At certain point in your history, it was not fashionable to be rebellious,
but as lots of people start playing that role, there was nothing different or rebellious about it again, but
Two roads diverged, and you
took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.