“If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.”*
Day after day,
We walk along crowded paths
To approach a destination.

Tramped like animals,
Caged and rabid just waiting to be tamed.
The stone cold ice we trudge to,
Through dirt and mountainous terrain.
The death of our souls,
We never learn until it is too late.

Oh how Sinclair would be so ashamed
For man’s unwillingness to deviate
For we are the leopards who travel in packs
With identical spots.

We find these truths to be self evident
That man strives to be acceptable to his peers

Animalistic in nature do find that we as man stumble, slip, slither, and strive to be uniform.
Like the saltarello we move from born individuals to one mind and body,
A society filled of blobs of grey.
We are one.
Quite unfortunate indeed,
For we the animals,
Will never see,
Who we truly are.