PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I walk into a room, 
always lines of faces looking at me. 
Rows of pathetic sheep bleating 
their rehearsed lines. 
Things you can't do. Things you can't say. 
These are the messages they 
collectively deliver. 
Flow around me, trying to wrap 
me in the collective sigh. 
Together we'd emerge, or so they demand, 
to blow away the shackles of freedom thoughts. 
We'll wear the same designs, eat 
the same religion. Be like submarine sandwiches 
all blended into one. 
When I walk, when I walk, 
When I walk into a room. 
The walls will be electrical charged with 
restrictions of the thinking. 
Words will be chanted like old monks 
locked away in a cell. The same 
tattered and dried messages will 
be created out of thick air. 
I'll be properly tied into the dragging nylon 
stockings of complete and total despair. 
I'll be roasted and flamed 
over a flowing blood vein of compromise. 
That will become my statement. 
My version of the truth. 
When I walk, when I walk, 
When I walk into a room. 
Tripping over the vowels used to 
discredit me. Hiking down my pants 
so that I can be anally inserted with 
needles of forgetting and moving on. 
Holding pattern established and 
so the mindset of nothing becomes 
the absolute sum of all my heart. 
When I walk outside of the room, 
I must remember to lock the door 
as I silently crawl away.