The Blank Slate

According to you I am a blank slate.

A vision, a hypothesis

A theory, if you will

You think I will bend and break to your every whim

But you don't know me

You think, though, that I will fall to expectation, correct?

Well one day I become full grown

And decide to fly the opposite the flock,

To sing a different tune

But I fall to the ground

I am injured and cannot get back up, though

And so I die alone on the cold, hard ground.

Then the vultures who titled me what I am,

The Blank Slate

Come in and decompose me, right?

But what those large birds don't realize is that I am within them

I am a part of them now.

And nothing or No one can stop me.

Nothing or No one can stop me because I am what they made me.

The Blank Slate