when we decide the form of punishment we are greeted with fists in the air (a bright future ahead of you) "you'll do us proud" forgetting the dismissals of the faces in the crowd the signs are there and we appear with open hands prescriptions for us all what has gone wrong now is just gone, with a new symptom developing and we'll treat all these symptoms one by one a pill for every flaw we can't all be different anymore there'd be too much to focus on (please not sarcasm) we'd rather be as secure as can be as long as we're within the confines of the daily meds passing through these days with bloodshot eyes in hopes to achieve a normal life never realizing that when we swallow it down we're taking a number and sitting. and waiting. the numbers called...time is up. the skin finally has the chance to catch up to that corpse inside that altered skull