We Are Not

Handcuffed to the dreadful normality 

of predictibility

Strangled by the soffocating realization

Of habit.

Held captive by fear. 

 

One can not force one's self to Change.

Yet, without change,

We will die,

An unexciting death,

One without adventure.

 

Although the trauma from this

is formidable,

One will drag the other down

Gasping for the air of Change.

Change, the cure to monotomy. 

 

Use the key.

Escape the chains.

Never stay the same.

One is not traditional anymore.

Traditional is no longer a thing.

 

We are not traditional.

We are not the same. 

We are bold, bright, and beserk.

We are the Change.

Are you?

 

 

This poem is about: 
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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