I look at a lump of clay
so innocent yet so controlled
And I find myself relating to that
lump of clay.
My life is molded by other people
like the lump of clay.
I cannot speak up whether I want to
be made into what I am.
Maybe if it had a mouth like me
it could speak up.
Maybe if it had a nose it could breathe
and choose its life.
Maybe if it had a body it could choose its
path in life rather than be forced into a life
they didn’t want to.
A lot of us are lumps of clay.
We can’t speak up,
We can’t control but we are controlled.
Maybe one day we won’t be a lump
of clay anymore.
Categories:
A lump of clay
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