Poetry

we’ve all been painted by numbers

none of us are free

we’re boxed and labeled

told what and what not to be

tethered to an idealistic image

drawn perfectly to scale

we’re just cheap reproductions

traced down to each detail

the color in our eyes

penciled in a little brighter

the ropes around our necks

pulling tighter-tighter-tighter

our bodies reject our souls

they’re just hanging by a thread

where our hearts once were

there’s a vacancy instead

we fill it up with empty things

that leave us wanting more

abiding by the blueprint

of those who came before

the rules and regulations

imprinted deep within

we’re just shadows of ourselves

& who we could have been

obedient, we fall in line

among the faceless crowd

 –

are you proud?