The Desert's Doll House

In a world of fantasy,

As part of a new dynasty

Flamboyant and loud,

Not curbed by any crowd. 

Trapped in a house of plastic,

Filled with phony faces, so unenthusiastic.

Only moved by the new generation,

An artificial creation.

Robotic, wanting to become a boy.

Automatic, their instinct to destroy.

Only one of flesh and bone,

I, actor in this doll house I've known.

But I run from this hell house,

From under the radar, a church mouse.

Mirages desiring to quench my thirst,

In so hot a desert where true knowledge should come first.