implied
We're held back and
stopped by the reds but go
forth when we're beckoned
by the green.
What have we become?
Where caution tape decides
where we can and cannot
go.
The velvet ropes hold me
back,
they hold us apart. Since
when do these numbers
control? The color drains
from our faces but no one
notices.
We're barcodes,
conformity at its finest.
Where we're driven by
censorship,
and the yellows don't
come to slow down
the process.
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: