Rules

There are rules for everything and everyone, some good, some bad, Some boring, but never ones that are fun.

“Don’t do that, it’s wack. Act like this and you won’t get dissed.”

“Don’t say that; talk like this if you wanna be cool.”

“You can’t love your same gender. But remember a serial adulterer Who habitually lies can be a contender for the Second Coming, if He’s not bumming guys. “

 Dress like this if you wish to get kissed; look like this if you don’t want To be dismissed a fool.”

We’ve become slaves to these rules, afraid to be called fools, and have Become tools of our own prisons, digging our graves deeper, the dirt Piling high, burying ourselves alive, because we’re scared to get hurt. But is it worth it?

We are given the illusion of individuality, in so far as we stick to the Guidelines of what it means to be an outsider.

“Don’t like that, it’s too mainstream; check this out, it’s legit lit.”

“Don’t think like that, you’re brainwashed by the powers that be. Here, Read this book on post postmodernism and see the plight of the masses, Then you’ll be just like me.”

“Don’t buy from Walmart, because their workers are paid slave wages,” she says from her multi-million-dollar mansion in a Country, lest we forget, built upon the death of millions who were Only three-fifths a Person.

There are even rules for having not rules.

“Only read books about anarchism and only talk to people who Believe In anarchism or you’re not a real anarchist.”

“Don’t confirm to anything, but don’t be like us, you poser.”

Rules were meant to establish order and instead have become tools Of control.

As for me?

I have a new goal: to be free.

See, I don’t need rules for how to be me.

So, I say screw the rules and do you, boo.