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Identity

It’s as if everyone and everything comes with labels,
From the names and clothes we so proudly wear
To the air that seems so incredibly free,
Yet is nothing but a letter and a number.

Like that O and all its friends always stuffed into categories,
We are all forced by an invisible hand to remain here, trapped.
We just go round and round in a cycle,
Like photosynthesis or respiration, always with the same purpose and form, never changing.

Can we ever break free? I think not,
We’ll always be pressed down into the mold by our peers,
Just like the atmosphere keeps air from breaking free,
Pressed down where we have no way of escape.

Gravity will always pull us back,
No matter how hard oxygen tries,
It cannot escape,
But it still tries and that is what keeps the world from collapsing on top of us.



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