What an ugly word.
What an unkind word.
How dreary is that perfect ploy
To be caught; society's little toy.
To know you can't measure up,
To know you don't have what it takes,
To know that it is not enough,
To know no one expects you to make
The word is blasphemy.
Fills me with apathy.
All cold and calculated,
Knowing that you're fated
To live a life of misery,
To be somebody's little pawn,
To want but never get it all,
Not not be someone to fawn
Expounding a horrid lie.
Making one folks will buy.
"It's true, you never have to fall,
Just fix your hair and have a ball!
Who cares about the consequences!
Who cares what tomorrow will be!
Who cares what and who you trample on,
As long as you Perfect Perfection Perfectly--