Society is made up of building blocks
Primary colours are key,
But what if,
What if I'm a different shade of green?

Each rectangle is equal,
Each clicks into place,
Except they don't,
When your a different race or shape.

Formulation,
Regularity,
Nothing abnormal here.
And yet we're told to embrace "the real me"

I'm not a primary building block.
I'm not a shape or colour.
I'm a pool of paint and water,
A paper chain, a flower.

And if I have to become a solid,
And cover up my flaws,
Then I'll disassociate myself from society,
And clench my jaws.

Is society completely brutal?
I don't hold that answer in my head.
Perhaps the building blocks are changing,
To become a puzzle instead.

6.3.16