Don’t you have anything better to do? Telling others how to live their lives, keeping it “true to you,” keeping it all in line, but you don’t get to rule me, or crown yourself the voice of social norms. Nobody asked for your opinions But you spout them true to form You don’t decide what’s right for others. You don’t get to sit that throne. How about you do you— I’ll mind my breath, my bones, my own. It doesn’t matter how I live my life, what shape my freedom takes or wears. You don’t get to pull my strings, you don’t get to tell me where. I didn’t ask to join your circus, didn’t ask to wear your scars. I didn’t ask to win your battles, or bleed for someone else’s cause. So tell me how it feels to stand there, hands so clean, demands so loud, calling selfish anyone who won’t bow their neck into the crowd. What is it you’re fighting for, really— justice, control, or just your name? Some holy cause that needs a villain so you never have to change. I won’t be drafted into your army, your moral cages, your false applause. I’m not your lesson, flag, or proof— And I’m sure as hell not your cause. So tell me how it feels to stand there, hands so shaky, demands so wrong, calling selfish anyone who won’t sing along Just Copyright your hateful song. What is it you’re fighting for, really— justice, control, or just your name? Some holy cause that needs a villain so you never have to change. Others lives are not your business so long as they do them Doesn’t harm you or anyone If they use she, he, her, or him Who decided other people Have to bow to what you thinks right? It ain’t even their issues It ain’t even their fight. So tell me how it feels to stand there, hands so righteous , you use them to take, calling hateful anyone who won’t reciprocate Or Fit the narratives you create. What is it you’re fighting for, really— Social rights that don’t belong to you, Some crusade led by lapdogs And absolutely nothing better to do
