Control

I’m a bastion of physical and mental maladies,
which baggage me, drag me, back to my home.
They hear that over there they’ve got some remedies
that will set them free, let them roam.

They swish in my brain,
splash in my mouth.
They will not wane,
until they cause a drought.

Oh take me, take me, from society’s convention!
I want to let go of these flowing contusions!
However, however I want to call no attention,
to my bloodied clothes, my messy diffusion!

Oh why must these normatives hold me?
After all, they are made from humanity!

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