The Clones

I never really got into poetry. The only piece I have never binned.


Their perspective and personality are structured like plastic
I think they are vile, they believe they’re fantastic
I can’t help but hate
They are exhibited as fake
Frolicking around as if they’re all saints

With a polished face and dressed to kill
They’re on the hunt for a low cost thrill
Rowdy and wild
With counterfeit smiles
With the mind set and maturity of a child

They condemn people as if they’re pathetic
Oblivious to the fact it’s them whose prosthetic
But once they have grown
They won’t exist on their own
Out of the batch, they’re just another clone