Thin-thick, black-white,

He-she, scared-might,

With spoon-fed views in blind eyes,

We're infants weeping in beds of lies.

Aren't we stringless puppets,

With wingless dreams?

We're born to measure,

A sadistic pleasure,

Every centimetre,
Of his/her character,

And yet,

We claim our broken souls' unbroken,

Ugly hearts' pretty,

Empty minds' witty,

And then reach out to our pockets,

Pull out those rulers,

Have some critic-work fun,

Bitchy work overdone.

Lets not fail ourselves,

By nicely fitting into the judgmental world,

If you want the light of freedom,

Remove those tinted glasses,

Throw away your rulers,

And Embrace and smile.