You mindless herds.

You cut your hair exactly the same. You dye it all the same.
You say the same phrases,
You soak up someone else.
and the chain continues.


You'll pose the same in every photograph
You'll make the same faces.
You'll edit them exactly the same as everyone else.
you're still following the herd.

Even if you are overweight, if you still follow the trendy hairstyle, the snazzy clothes, the kids will shout, "that bitch is fine."
They and YOU don't see the ugly underneath all that makeup.
The immature and insecure teen squirming for acceptance.
(she cries 'love me, hold me!' look how pathetic she is now.)

[damn, my letters are like stanzas. ]

That BITCH is NOT fine. She's not cute. or snazzy. or SPIFFY. She's a clone, a product of envy. and ignorance.
You all are. As was I, at one point or another.
Envy will weigh you down into the herd. It desensitizes your instincts to fly.


You fucking cut your hair in the same choppy style.
You wear the same goddamned clothes from the trendy stores.
You say, "Jesus is dead." to fit in.
Your fucking antichrist is yourself.


you're insecure. you're envious. You have no talent, but only an uncanny one to reproduce someone else's image.


You listen to those bands because your friends do. You never HEAR the words that are spoken. Instead, you hear the noise of a thousand people just like you.

You start living the same lives. You start experiencing the same things. Love is dead, and you replace it with envy and spite. Love is dead.

And everyday I have to look at the million faces I see, the million faces that all look the same. With the same dull, lost eyes.

You're lost. You're pathetic.
You're a copy.


and the only hatred I've ever felt is now against you.