yeah yeah, sure.
You'd like to start a million riots.
But I know you won't.
You fight your battles in hammocks,
sipping away at impurities,
choking on factual liquid.
You can hardly stomach your reflection
so what makes you different from any other
princess begging for approval
from the man within the mirror?
You love to be original,
extra crispy with flare and the right purse.
But you walk alone,
don't you notice?
And your hair,
so volumized, filled with air,
and it's ironic.
but you'll never understand why.
When you speak to me,
you address me as everyone else.
yes, you have called me "everybody else"
While I sat at the edge of my desk
holding both middle fingers to your "free thinking."
sit down,
you've been caged.
But you love to start riots,
all pretty in yellow,
shoes to match.
You love to be anything.
If the colors match.
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