Can I change the colour of my skin
Or the way my nose grows?
Can I re-orient my age
Or keep my youthful glow?
You chain me, you bar me,
You beat me with sticks
You say I’m unhealthy
Or that I am sick;
Why not look at the world around
A world in which vagaries abound?
Where lust destroys lives
Then persues the dead like hounds:
You are a pot calling the kettle black
A jailor within a jail
Your efforts defy gravitation
And gradually grow pale.
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