Stop.
I’m not part of this.
I’ll be leaving now.
I don’t understand
How none of you
See what’s going on.
A herd following
Whoever they think
They should be,
Experts non experts.
Stop, now.
It doesn’t have to be this way
There are so many
Other beautiful
Things to be done
Instead of being
Ordinary and
Following.
So ordinary.
All of them the same.
Living in lifeless boxes,
Doing the same things
In unison, laughing at
The same awful things,
Talking about nothing,
Hating the same people,
Afraid of everything,
Driving the same loud
Metal machines,
Not an original thought
In the bunch, a terrible
Gathering of mediocrity
Fancying itself great.
I am a paper bag, I am.
I’m not the smart one,
I’m not the successful one
I’m not the tall one who always won and
Then died.
I am a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
I am a paper bag,
I’m not plastic, not I.
I am paper: rough, brown and thin
I’m not waterproof, you know.
And I can’t hold any liquids or gases within.
I only have room for the stuff that matters.
I’m a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
I am a paper bag.
Wrinkled and used and often abused
Thrown on the floor.
Buried deep inside your drawers.
I am a paper bag.
That sometimes falls apart
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
More at http://igorgoldkind.wordpress.com/.
From our very youth
We are institutionalized,
Subjected to regiment,
And creatively we die.
We are placed in a mold
And injected to form
That which is pliable,
The expected norm.
We grow up predictable
And devoid of individuality,
For we’re shunned if we
Display it, and that in reality
Is the paramount tragedy.