PRISONER

PRISON

Can you guess where I live? I'll tell you, but you still have to guess.

The place where I live is fragile. So fragile that if someone doesn't
Speak in the way everyone else does, his house will be tumbled down.

This place is so fragile, that if you wear anything with bright colors,
You will be taken to our invisible court.

So fragile that if you don't random shout to the beauties,
You'll be considered as a certain type of cat.

So fuckin fragile that if you wear colors up on your mask
You will be seen as the beauty-wanna be.

So fragile, that if you don't sit down and enjoy a game with balls
The others will not see yours.

We live with rules, a certain agreement, that nobody knows
When or where those rules came from.

We are forced to have sticks up our cracks and stand straight.
For if you don't, you'll be transferred to another kingdom

Where you will also be judged because you stand a little bit too tall.

You can never be who you are or Love who you love.
If it against the rules. Those fucking ancient rules.

Now, can you guess where I live?
Is it a horrid kingdom or is it a prison?

I call it prison. The rest call it masculinity.
A place ruled by invisible dictator. Force down his beliefs to the powerless.