I Will Not Follow the Follower Bees

We are all following the crowd today. We are looting and burning and shouting hooray! It is fun to be in this group, they have painted me gray. I am a mascot, and some want to hear what I have to say. But wait. An internal me is feeling sorry and sad. What we did today will make others feel extremely bad. I want to leave, but I do not want to make my new friends mad. I make excuses, blaming my mom and my dad. They scoff and make fun of me. There’s much laughter in the air. I take off anyway, for now about their friendship I truly don’t care. To live my truth, to be fully and completely my most compassionate me. I have to stand up for my beliefs, not follow these follower bees. So I leave the mobsters, the looters, the meanies and thugs. I see through my windshield wipers dozens of smeary ugly bugs. When I reach my parents, I am embraced with acknowledging hugs. I decide to go back later and help fix the things I did with the thugs.