Petition for Rebellion
Little ants scuttling around, jobs to be done,
I remember a time I was that complying.
Not a single hair out of place, so orderly,
I can’t believe they can stand it.
Listening without question,
I wonder at who taught them that.
Where is the spontaneity?
What gives you spots instead of stripes?
No one knows how to be their own person,
Each will grow up to be identical copies.
Rules are closing in, constricting breathing,
Expectations pasted on model walls.
An awful world, a boring future,
I petition for rebellion.
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