Fork In Hand
The natural state is
shameful.
The skin,
once smooth
now calice
drownding in rich fragrance and
creams
Hair is plucked, cut, shaped, and
trimmed.
Animal instincts our squashed
with regulation and normalness.
Our eyes seek, wishing to
pounce
But our hamstrings are cut;
unable to spring.
A human is what is told to be
There is no humaneness...
just an animal being
pampered by rosy makeup
Roots are buried
our skin is sinful
Few sane remain
frowned upon
by proper citizens who love
to demonstrate proper behavior.
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