Get out!
Outside the box
inside your head.
That’s where we live
when we are dead.
You’re not a package
to be sold.
You’re not the putty
for their mold.
Nor are you slave
to past regrets.
The future
hasn’t happened yet.
Step out of
what they say to be
and into
anti-gravity.
Great poem, I always like reading about that kind of stuff, indeed my blog has a lot about becoming robots, dehumanization, and so on.
Buy you write it in a beautifull poem
Cute rhyme, dear soul!
You’re so well-grounded, and
I feel like floating away.
Thanks for the push!
(Let me know if you ever find
any anti-gray fluid that works.)