The Clone Craze Strikes

By
The Clone Craze Strikes

The crowd blurs together,
The proverbial birds of a feather.
They compress themselves,
Trying to fit the template on the shelves.

Countless rows of magazines
Preach their dogma to mindless teens.
It's an epidemic of conformity,
An example of pure absurdity.

No one can belong in some else's skin,
Only fools lie to fit in,
So fools have they become-
Their once-warm souls gone numb.

Woe is modern man,
He has lost all that he can.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback