A Stifling.
Blank
A white canvas
On the easel of the world
What to paint?
The pictures are all too well known
The stories already written
Your life to live?
Ha ha,
No.
I’m afraid not.
We define you
Your story
The world’s paper,
Our pen.
You are our canvas
The paintbrush goes as we will it
Our every whim
Writes your tale out
On the ledger of fate
You are ours
Not yours
This is our life you’re living.
Our rules
Our ideas
Our story.
Ours.
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