Do or be done.
Run or be run over.
Shoot or be shot.
A black sheep in the midst of bleached minds
all programmed to act without question,
reaching out their ashen tentacles that drip with tears unshed,
for the person they swore they would never become
now embodies their very being.
The sheep, upon rejecting that milky coat of coercion,
by the blunt force of nature itself.
Haven’t you learnt, sweetie?
What spectacles we make
out of ourselves every day
just to feel embraced
even if the embrace is slowly strangling us
What a funny thing it is indeed.