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.