Wed
Oct
7
Conformity
Like a wind-up chime in a digital clock,
Bird aboard an airplane,
A crippled boy who’s told to walk,
Window made of cellophane.
I have no place,
I cannot be.
This expression on my face
Is the only one I’ll let you see.
I love to race,
You’d rather walk,
I’ll slow my pace,
Start the clock.
My favorite color was always blue,
But you like red, I see.
I must admit that was untrue,
Red does look rather good on me.
A stamp on an email,
Rubber band that doesn’t snap,
A sunless tanner who’s still pale,
True fan’s unworn baseball cap.
I have no place,
I cannot be.
This expression on my face
Is one of conformity.
