What do I want to be when I grow up?

I always thought this was an odd question

They ask us from a tender age to define the rest of our lives

Unfair isn’t it?

Our worlds revolving around the Sun of toys and nap time

Set adrift on the ocean of innocence and they were making waves

The boat was rocking and we clung to our Mothers’ legs to try to keep from falling over

This pattern continued even when we grew older

Dough being forced in to cookie cutters

Did they ever stop to think that maybe we didn’t fit?

It wasn’t always the 50 foot suits and ties towering over us

Sometimes it was an army

An army of boys and girls

Marching single file in support of their idols

Marching towards our cities to destroy everything we stood for

Our age

Our size

But not like us

NOTHING like us

They were led by a tyrannical regime of two

A boy

Wearing a flat-brimmed hat upon his head

Expensive shoes and a tight v-neck shirt

Pants so bright as to blind those he stood against

Then there was the girl

Petite

Curvy

Wearing clothes so revealing she’s practically naked

They spread propaganda among their underlings

You are fat

You are ugly

You’re too skinny

You need makeup

You need to be more like us

They tell us and we believe it

Well

Not all of us

There are those who stand against them

We rise from the ashes of our fallen brothers and sisters

Those who were so willing to conform they died for it

We rise from the sewers

Emerging from the filth and the methane-laced air

Letting the rain wash over us and breathing the pure oxygen

Feeling it fill our lungs

We exhale all their lies and the pain they have caused us

We are the few who are real

We stand against the tyranny and oppression of our society

We are the resistance

And the revolution has begun