Is it all just spinning,
Twirls & curtsies,
To all these hidden rules I never wanted to follow.
I cannot curtsy,
When there’s an ocean of orphans
In the same-as-yesterday dresses,
When there’s wide eyed children,
Wondering who will bring them dinner.
When there’s once innocent daughters,
Touched by sons who have become monsters.
How much longer are we going to pretend it’s all not happening?
How much longer are we going to
Curtsy to ourselves?