My unusual wisdom seems naive to that powerful beast
named conformity
Its blood-quenching jaws lock its victims in
but they are not flinching fighting or screaming
they are just simply there
Conformity does not bite to kill
It bites to trap.
It does not stalk its prey down for hours during the night
It is way too overwhelmingly stout
And why would it stress itself anyway when its victims
have always willingly placed their heads betwixt its jaws?
Yet, I am labeled a travesty by those
who can not see the Great Plains surrounding them from inside its hatch
They only see what they have seen before
so do not understand my ambition for disparity
I know how obscure and preposterous my goals are
but I am far too confident to comprehend the language of pessimism
For, I would rather die as a result of failure of my ambition
then to live in the stable, tranquil, but adherent jaws of conformity
