Recycled Monotony

 
Something about that dull repetition of habit
the ritual of the same day to day to day to day...
Broke my heart into pieces, I couldn't be, no,
I could never stand to be tamed with the world.
What if my thorns were ever broken off again?
I couldn't stand the pain of being broken down,
being chained, tied down in colorless routine,
in a colorless world filled with identical grey suits

But now my thorns grow back as I break free
You can't fight fate, break me of my destiny!
I won't be confined to mundane convention--
My life is meant for so much more than that
I'll watch from afar as each one of you regress-
fall into the monotony of recycled conversation
from which you'll lapse into soporific silence...
O Suffocating end, memories of old thorns forgot

© copyright by Michèle Aimée Lahaie, 2010