When I was young

I wanted to be an elf.

Tall and regal and proud

I wanted to stand in beautiful repose

And lord my intelligence and understanding

Over the inferior, power-mad race of Men.

-

Back as time moved forward

I lost that most vital characteristic:

Calm

And like a sudden storm

I tore through the world

Not in reflection, but in aggression.

-

Hair once silvery blonde

Became the deepest black.

Face once adorned with small smiles

Flushed in rage and anguish.

Rich fall tones and cool pastel skirts

Were drowned in the onslaught of black material.

-

And so my dream of Elvish glory died.

Louder, more wild dreams replaced the calm.

Society demands sylvan perfection, but I resist,

Decrying them for the drones they are.

Part of me will always wish to be an elf

But the sanctimonious society hears none of it.

-

For the pure and simple fact

That Elves cannot have tongue piercings.

I don't really know what brought this on, but I kind of liked it, so I thought I'd put it up here. It's rather true to today's society, even though I wasn't really writing with that theme in mind. Society demands a certain kind of perfection, but not all of us can. or want, to fit that mold.

Anyway, please review. Even if it's to say "I hate your writing, stop now! HAVE MERCY!!"