De-Un
I'm not Deranged just Derailed,
Deraptured with the Devolution of Angels,
The Devilization of a Nation,
Decorum Demands that I Devalue individualism,
Some Decadent, Dilenquent, Despot shouts
"Our hair must be black!"
"Our hair must be pink!"
Displaying our inner inability, denial to think, for ourselves,
And this juvenile notion,
Will take a while floatin,
While we stand smile gloatin,
With a clan of vile showthings,
Definately stupid,
Definately wrong,
Definately Deafening with our Different songs,
Decensored & Desensitized,
In a De-axised world normality is now abnormal.
We Delve Deep into Different ways to Display our Desperate Demonstrations of self,
A country of Deadbeats with credit card debt to nike,
A thousand like you,
A thousand like me,
Wave goodbye to individuality,
In matching gloves.
Surely we see?
This rebellious Unity?
Unlikely.
If we're all SO different,
We're all the same,
Any other interpretation would be insane,
A United Unhindered generation of Undertakers,
Caring for rebellions now defunct,
Just wearing a mohawk does not make one a punk,
Find your own voice,
One that's unforced,
One that's your choice,
One that's your course,
Unfullfilled with an Unfullfilling Universe we Unwittingly Unite in Uniform,
Untying one set of bonds to Undertake another,
Only now pledging Undying allegiance to Unwritten social rulings,
Seclusion is the only Untainted place where one can Understand, Uninfluenced self,
Under supervision only Unlife and Unself exist.
Bright Pink sheep.
Copyright © Matthew Miles | Year Posted 2011
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