The empty Slate we know and love

The empty Slate we know and love

Is just a needless Lie—

The Things that make us who we are 

Will stay until we die


They come and open many Doors—

Left only for the fair

The rest become a living Clone 

The ones who don’t are rare


The odd who try to change their Fates 

Are met with loud Dissent—

Their Money and their Time are lost 

To waste on clear Deceit


Too blinded by the Imagery— 

Of Fame and jealous Looks

The only way to stop this Mess 

To look— to see, unmask



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