Of choices expressed by loud voices
And voices muffled by bad choices
Of the noise that we make when we think we’re right
Or the choice that we make to believe when we’re told we’re right
Of the freedom for which in our minds we fight
Or the freedom against which our actions fight
Of our love for taking selfies while facing the light
And the memories we make when there’s no light
Of the fact that we lust after everything in sight
And our actions when the right people are out of sight
Of the times that we pray for a solution to our plight
And the times when we are the society’s greatest blight
Of the things that we’d rather do on the first night
Or the many times that we claim it’s our first time
Of the babies that we make under the influence
The babies that we make in total congruence
And the ones that we make to gain us some affluence
Of the times we put down a real life champion
Damaging their lives with our mindless opinion
Breaking a potential marital union
Condemning their future to baseless oblivion
Forgetting they’re just but our own reflection
Sex tapes and love triangles capturing our attention
The naked girls getting the highest mentions
The sponsors getting hate and just as much admiration
While the sponsees are defaced, they get nothing but condemnation
A two-faced lot, or is it double standards?
It’s okay for them, but for us they set higher standards
They want you rich, just don’t let the world know how you got there
They want you curvy, but don’t tell them how you really got your wares
They expect loyalty, when they’re busy sampling product everywhere
Of crevices worshipped with heavenly tongue-dips
And the same crevices chastised when they seem to be too deep
Crevices that everyone would like to take a dip
Like the fountain of life, everyone taking a sip
Of minds respected for being too smart
And the same minds shunned if they don’t respond to a flirt
And even worse, if they don’t succumb enough to squirt
Of groomed men with pink pouts
Big bellied men with societal loots
And fat assed women with mishandled boots
Of mothers who love us a lot
And fathers that we know not
Pastors who think we’re lost
And Brothers who’d like a moment in the honey pot
A generation long lost, all thresholds of morality we’ve crossed
But that’s just us, if you’re too good you’re toast.
Trizah Fay © 2016