We as a body of people are drones to this society,

Where money, and fashion is a number 1 priority.

We get vacuumed into the media’s perception,

Where you’re exiled and banished if you become an exception,

Like a glutton we feed our hunger with this current obsession,

Here we strive to fit into the Medias image of perfection.

We’re manipulated by the industry, controlled by fashion

Teased by the money, and loving it with a passion.

We’re in a constant struggle with our wants and needs

Some chose academics others choose the weed.

We’re expected so much through the Medias eyes,

That we lose ourselves, and become our disguise.

We shape ourselves into the Medias mold

Where we trim off the excess and do as we’re told.

We squeezed down by this social compression

Where the main goal is to be granted acceptance

Into a realm where the smart is the weak and the quiet and the lone

Are ogres of this place and live disowned.

Family adds to the weight that we bear on our necks

Constantly pushed to be great, pushed to be the best.

We are bent over backwards breaking every joint

Just to make them happy and try not to disappoint.

We constantly crave the attention of society.

Yet can’t handle the pressure and buckle under the anxiety.

The cleaner option is to choose solidarity,

But the ‘glamour” from being alone is tainted by popularity.

We are the meals of the media breakfast lunch and dinner.

We’re raised with the mentality to be taller & thinner.

We’re supposed to do crazy things buy expensive clothes,

We are the reason that the negativity grows.

We are torn by our options and caught in between

So we wait patiently to become the cameras acid

And the Microphones Morphine…