All of us grasping for the original.
Looking for something to make our own.
Are we aware it's been done a million times over?
Step-step-step.
Breathe-grab-bend.
It's all routine, where does our heart lie?
Have we let our passion vanish with our plates?
Don't take that home dear,
it will taste horrible microwaved.
But noone warned us.
So we didn't even think about tapping the brakes.
We didn't even read the manual.
We didn't even receive the box.
Stupid e-bay.
Who have we become?
And we sit up oh-so-proud.
But of what?
We all take showers and put our pajama's on at some point.
Independence lies nowhere near the pilot.
So don't claim you're a rebel, your life screams of the contrary.
We all write our poetry.
Listen to our indie music.
And find our vintage t-shirts.
But yet, here we are in another genre.
With our group of followers….which one are you again?
No thanks.
I'll pass.
Let me off the boat, I'm ready to take my chances and….
Swim.