another child of clay
was born to us today
mold it as we say
so it can live one day
in our world of grey
strip it of its smile
earnestness is style
its red cheeks are vile
white in a short while
make it fit our pro-file
success in work and prayer
content that life’s not fair
just strong enough to bear
our never-ceasing stare
too weak to really care
we’d like it to find relief
in substance or belief
idless goes with grief
both should be… brief
self-medicating’s the motif
let it like the others
love them like its brothers
because built-up hate smothers
the one’s we deem the “others”
that’s exactly our druthers
let it grow and die
with only a quiet cry
never a thought of why
or something new to try
it should be quite dry
this mold will make it glad
it’s like the one’s we had
anything else would be bad
it would end up raving mad
and then it wouldn’t add…
…to our world of grey