We are not men and women
though we like to believe we are.
We are children stuffed into the bodies of
"further evolved humans"
Full of preconcieved ideas
but robbed of curisity.
Pigeons told to fly
but struggling with limp wings.
Not at fault individually
but the blame goes to society.
Witnesses to a homocide,
the death of a girl named creativity.
Taken in her youth and
beaten by conformity,
she screamed for us, she fought,
cries that fell on a deaf city.
Leaderless lemmings traveling blissfully to ignorance
Tag turned turmoil in an unfamiliar country.
Hark back to awe filled days
these eyes unwilling to fade.
But now is not the time,
the grown ups have vome to play.