A Sixpack of PBR Poetry 1

imageThere are no stories.
No campfire fables are needed today.
I live my life,
The explanation is interpreted as needed.

I walk my mile with defiant footsteps.
To give and pledge allegiance,
is a chore taught young.
It’s a rhythm whipped and ingrained into daily chores.

I don’t want to accept my fate.
I have read and practiced so much better.
To be original is nothing but blasphemy,
To hear my words on podium,
Is a delusion that becomes a dream.

I listen to your music,
You strum to a culture you hold strong.
I wish to break free of the ties that bind,
And hear a tune wrote just for me.

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