Teen Ink

   The dictators

are drowning me

out under their

make-up glory.

Clones of individuality,

making me afraid

to speak my mind,

to break out of the strait-jacket

they've laced so tight.

Can't breathe, can't think

beyond their superficial

rules for ...

Happiness?



But I've never

been good

at following rules.

I refuse to be

molded into

some pretty little toy

that everyone has,

stuffed in their

pockets.

I'll slip from under

their giant's foot

and climb up

the beanstalk

so I can dwell

in the clouds.