Little Boxes

My mind wanders fast Propelling Trying to burst free From this overbearingness of dreary sameness. Each day The same routine The same speed The same little boxes The same little people. But this cookie-cutter plan At this cookie cutter pace In this cookie cutter house With these cookie cutter people Is not for me. I struggle against the tide To be who I want to be: One bright colorful koi Swimming against this mass of monotonous krill. One Lone Ranger Standing against the accusing eyes of society. One individual human being Walking against thousands of strikingly similar human beings.