Molded Goals Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.

People live to breathe in sequels.
And leeching to squeeze,
From an opportunistic vision.
But too afraid to plant their own footsteps,
If others are not pleased.

People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.

Give me my right to have a life of variety.
With a choice I decide in my mind,
Who and what I will be as I define.

People are not free,
Or encouraged to be themselves.
And directed from their births,
To seek acceptance...
From others who have molded goals,
And know what is perfectness.

Molded goals grow old to corrode.
And find a staleness solid...
Rusted with rot and dropped forgotten.

People live and breathe in sequels.
Too afraid to make fresh steps.

People live to please other people,
And get upset when nothing is correct!

Molded goals.
Molded goals.
Rusted with rot,
And soon dropped forgotten.