I went to a new school

Where they were all different.

They were not the heard of sheep I had come to know

To expect. Not the jock cheerleader complex, raided party tales, top 40 hits or bad cologne. Not the smirks or see through smiles, Mean Girl embodiments or--

I came as one, complete in appearance and mind.

They took me, and fixed me.

I sighed in relief, for I was shiny and new

Not the next model, (new! Coming soon!) but the “real” me

The true me.

Stripped down to bone and built up again, better,

They “fixed” me.

As glorious and beautiful, fantastic as they were,

They are what they scorn

Sheep

Clones.

Not snow white like the typical,

But rainbow colored, half dyed

Polka dotted with stars for eyes,

And Birkenstock sandals to cover their cloven feet.

Clunky heels, and virgin brows, as liberal as could be

How could they, so worldly and wise

Not be able to see

With their star dotted eyes

That they were, are, the same thing, as the jocks that are Men and boys that are Dumb, the girls so Fake with minds Barbie-waist Small

 

The guise

It’s what they hide behind.

They are that animal they deeply despise.

 

I was a sheep

I still am.

Not shiny and new, or old and known

Not snow white or striped in neon pink

But still

A thing that is not me.

Even if I were to escape my blankets and securities

To be stripped naked and bare would not matter—

I would still be a sheep, hiding in the open

Among them. The heard

 

We stand as one.