Pushing Teeth

These things pulling at my head,
Tearing at my heart
Confuse and dishearten me.
These things without names,
These things without form
Dizzy and then leave me alone,
Alone with everyone around me,
Pulling hair, pushing teeth,
Wrapping in clothes,
Making pretty,
Making nice.
There must be people out there,
Not just dull machines
Pre-programmed what to think,
Steered by media remote control.
It is just a noise to me,
Your infatuation: a sad mystery.
Every word I say is a lie.
Every word is a goodbye.
The novelty is lost on me.
The end: a childish fantasy.

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