Not all good people get the life they deserve, many die early and the others are tortured through image and reflection. Butterflies have a somewhat poisonous powder on their wings, but moths just like lights, and when they fly towards the “sun”, they get killed off before ever getting there. Not all sheep are white, some are grey and brown and black, but people like white sheep, because that is what a sheep is “supposed” to look like. The most famous clothing brands can make terrible shoes, so maybe buying from a not so well known shoe store is a nice change. Pretty people get picked first, pretty privilege is more important than knowledge. I want to be an actor, i work so hard, only 0.04% make it big. More people die by cows every year than sharks. Beauty is often in found in your fear.
I’ll tie my hair up, I promise I will, I’ll straighten it, you can have it, everything, take take take and don’t give back, throw it away when you are bored, erase me because I don’t belong on the map. People people people, they want what belongs to us, they poke and they jeer, then take what they tortured, write their name on it like sharpie, then use it so everyone believes its theirs, and they throw it away right after. People people people, they say they support, they say they ally and then point a gun to our heads, and pull the damn trigger. People people people, think they can do what they want, because they want it, but we damn as well don’t, yet they will do it anyways because it’s them. People people people, I’ll hold your hand when those brass knuckles hit you in the face, when you move schools and leave your friends behind. People people people, hold my hand when they call me those names and give me those looks. People people people, hold my hand when I tell you it offends me, hold my hand when I told you it hurts, please hold my hand when I’m sleeping in tears, I’m begging you to hold my hand when they lie to my face, I’m crying so you can hold my hand when they erase my existence, you need to hold my hand when I want to hold yours. That’s the reflection, and you were the image. That was the sun, and you fell before it. You were the slaughtered, and that was the flock. You were the shoes but the glue gave up on you. You were the knowledge in this pretty world. You were the work and that was a 0.04 chance. You were no shark, and no cow, you were a moth and she was the butterfly, but where was the poison? what does that make me?
Hold my hand when I tell you they said I am neither.