Poem: The Order of the World

I grow up, you grow up, we get married,
Buy a house, get a dog, have some kids,
A heavy checklist that we’re forced to carry,
With objections shelved under ironclad lids.

Make some money, be content,
But not too happy or else you’ll forget,
The responsibilities, the rent,
To save daily for that safety net.

But what if I want to run away?
From the order of society
And build a house from clay
Away from those who lie to me

A house that will protect me from
Those who care too much
To let me go numb
To the touch
of expectations.

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