Don’t tell me that I need to conform or succumb to the ever-changing expectations set by the media in order to create nothing but a population of clones.

To drain the personality and life out of every individual walking along the soil of this very earth,

That we trash with our factories and our corporations,
claiming to work towards creation,
of a better world,
but instead destroying, demolishing, decomposing, eating away
at any miniscule microscopic piece of any part of nature that is left

And don’t tell me that I need to wear short skirts, low cut shirts, or anything else
that works for you, and your idea of the perfect girl,
stuck in the middle of your perfect world,

consisting of over-taking every country with your bombs and your guns,
killing every father, mother, husband, wife, and their babies

The cancer and the scabies
and the other flesh-eating, melting, rotting diseases,

caused by who-knows-what
at who-knows-where
from who-knows-who

So don’t tell me anything
because everything you think you know
means nothing
to me.