Scissors

Little snips slice deep into the mind
they create the image of cookie cutter lives
expected to always be like a paper doll,
one dimensional and so fragile,
never able to think or feel
other than by some pattern.

How those tailors only follow
the lines they want
and if some part of you
doesn’t fit inside,
it’s trimmed away without care
so you lost part of yourself
in order to appear
as they want you shaped.

Toss away the scissors they offer
I can make my own design,
one that won’t kill my identity
make it sliced, diced and in pieces.

Would that there were no cutters at all
and no blueprints for being
someone always dictated as necessary.

So sometimes we just have to dwell
beyond those razors and blades,
where we can craft who we really are
from what we see within
instead of what others view without.