Dear Conformist...
Do you realize what you are?
Submitting to the patterns of humanity,
You are a puppet,
A doll,
A lifeless follower with no drive,
No mind to call your own.
So what then?
What can you do?
If all you have known are these trends,
These fashions,
These popularity contests?
Why do you play in this game?
When it is ruthless.
A dog pile to get to the top...
Where anything goes,
And nothing gets left un-played.
How far will you take it?
What are you willing to do?
This fight is vicious...
And if you won't break some to win,
You instead will be broken.
Because that is what its all about:
Biting off the competition
So that you
And only you,
Remain to claim the title.
To stand upon the broken bodies of those you have defeated.
Of all the hearts,
And minds,
And dreams of the used,
And the unworthy.
But when you finally make it,
If you can crawl to the top of the blood bath,
What, then, is it you will do?
Will you shout to the heavens?
Flash your success like a shiny new toy?
Or will you stand alone with one target pinned to your back...
One that says "Shoot me,
I am a conformist,
I have clawed my way into the clutches of popularity,
And chewed my way to the top.
I have lied,
And cheated,
And faked who I am.
I wear the latest trends,
And cut my hair to match.
I listen to what is deemed cool,
And only date guys with egos as big as my own.
Shoot me,
For I have stabbed you in the back,
I have fought my way free of my beliefs,
My loves and values,
Because I am no better than that.
I am too scared to be different,
Too frightened of ridicule...
Yet I deal it to those around me.
I laugh at the geeks,
And wink at the jocks,
And giggle with the girls we call beautiful,
And i mimic their looks,
Their voices,
Their smiles...
But if you ask who I am,
I have no answer.
I am a conformist.
I am a mindless barbie doll.
I am a follower,
A puppet,
A fake...
And above all,

I am ashamed.