Born delivered into this world.
How painful the slap.
The agony of the ween.
The shock and hurt of reprimand.
Cultivated like corn.
Assimilated into schools.
Routine and convention extract alittle magic.
Crush it liquify it and direct it into the gutter.
Yes we graduate a semi machine.
Well conditioned by awkward vindictive systems.
Into the arms of the title you embrace,
no matter how unworthy.
Your disposition, behaviour and even vocabulary-
fits your job description.
The suit, coat or overalls become your skin.
The ant or the bee.
The illusions of politics, religion and sports teams,
occasionally distract you.
Affirmation helps, none louder than the mediocre joker,
who flatters you into a drinking binge.
Splash out on new clothes try to get others to identify you.
You spend it on a new car, one that shows the world-
who you think you are.
But you don´t know.
Thats why stuff sells.
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