The Rebel and the Conformist


Dark magic, every day you spin
The speed of thought uncontrollable, mad
A thousand stories in your head
Better than any story in real life you had
In solitude, they prosper
Grander and grander
Till thoughts turn to action
Only to be
Reprimanded by another
The white, calm source of light
A shake of the head no better than a strike
To act as the world sees right
And you conform again.
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