A snowflake

I'm told we are all special and unique.

We all can put down a lasting imprint.

But how, when we are mostly forbidden to speak?

How, when we are consumed and so then lament?

Each snowflake is different and new,

But how can they tell, I say?

'Because so'. They retorte of the whose who.

So they expect me to listen and obey?

So if each snowflake is unique, 

Why is all snow the same?

I don't mean to be a cratique,

But a snowflake is another in a sea of snow. Some fame.

So if we are all like a flake of snow,

Doesn't that mean we all end the same?

Snow is pretty, but just for show.

If we are flakes falling in snow, aren't we lame?