The Labotomite

Should I conform?

Though it hurts, yes. It's all I can do.

I'm already employed as a labotomite in this grave conquest.

From start to finish, I'll breathe given air

I'll drink given water

I'll pay for my pavement, though it is frail and wheeled (for security of course).

I'll contribute as wished

I'll be proud to go with the grain, and even more proud to go against it.

And if I shall not stay loyal to this code, I'll be punished in the most horrible way.

I'll become a vagabond to still, partially harbor the streets. 

I'll be spit on by past peers, and kicked by elders.

I'll lose the brace of security to reveal what's beneath the famed insignia armour:


This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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