Stringed puppets,

Walks of perfection you see,

Fake smiles,

Dreading too many dreams,

But silently doesn't your mind scream?

Aren't you oppressed,

By laws and non-acceptance of flaws,

how you're moulded by evil claws,

How they carve you,

Make you,

Force you,

To portray as a shadow of yet another mistake.

Yet they call it perfection,

And we gaze in awe?

Clamped voices,

Rumours as strange noises,

Bravert deemed as shame,

Hardwork put in vain.

They suppress you in a box,

And bound you within limits,

Because out of the box here,

Is called a mere hoax.

Ruining revelations, realisations

In the name of god.

Society has choked us now,

Chained us,

With strings,

With all they want.