These Clothes

Each passing day I find myself in

A situation I can and never will win

To escape from these bindings is to make me a fool

Strapped down I am like a plow to a mule

Habit has forced me not even to think

But to blindly serve under what even is pink

Choice it is not a question of, nor will nor desire

From oppression like this I shall never retire

For each of my corners - for each foot, leg, and arm

My chains strap on. Though they mean me no harm

I nevertheless feel much envy and strife

Towards that which will dog me the rest of my life

Day after day to me mirrors will so show

The rules that I meet; places I shan't go

To never be oneself, to never live out one's time

Is a torturous one, and I think it a crime

To hinder me so and to keep me from expressing

Myself in the forms that I find not suppressing

I'll let them go. Go! Let them fly to the wind

And none shall dare say to me, "You…you have sinned"

I'll have done something not done in many long ages

In the billions of books and their countless white pages

Indeed, as white as them I may be

Intent that the whole world around may so see

Happiness will be found to me at last

Forgotten will be the trials of my past

But alas, all my dreams I'll find gone to dust

Give up my one and true dear dream I so must

For my peers would never accept me, society'd put me away

But though I cannot do, I must end this and say

My confinement is something I would never have chose

If only I could get rid of these bothersome clothes

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A.N. – For the record, I don't actually want this. : )