Get gone, groupee!

I could care less about what’s cool-

I care about what’s right.

I don’t need the approval

Of those creatures of the spite,

Who stick their noses in the air,

I’d rather play outside,

Befriending the lesser-known,

But genuine misfits.

I don’t need to put my pearls before swine-

I’d rather drink from the vine

Of divine rainwater.

It’s not about being above,

And it’s definitely not about sinking below-

I can keep my head up,

Knowing that I am a lady,

I speak only to the wise and the gallant.

You have nothing to offer that I’ve never seen before,

And I guarantee that it’s nothing that I want.

I’m finished taking the high road of silence,

And drowning under your hubris.

My spirit awaits what was rightfully mine to begin with-

Your streetwalking pony-trick

Is growing wearisome.

So get lost, groupee!

I don’t need your brand of evolution,

To start up this revolution.



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