We Are All Newborns

We are all newborns.
Starry eyed and overwhelmed
With whatever bizarre entity stands before us.
With whatever outlandish concept is too perplexing to fathom.
We are all locked onto one thing
Whatever the demented brainwave short-circuited the mind into wanting
Is almost in our grasp.

But. How are we supposed to reach out
When we have no jurisdiction of our movements?
Since we are brainwashed with inept propaganda
And since whatever you see now suddenly becomes the truth.
Fact. Not opinions, not false numbers twisted
By the nimble fingers of big corporation
Trying to sell us their bullshit.
Or the pathetic lies of webzine,
Magazines, that tell you size 0 is beautiful.
This, alike rain, is going to fall
As a shower, regardless of whether you want it to
Or not. And rob us of our innocence.

We are all faux, in the sense that we are created,
Carved by the hands of others,
A work in progress,
A ball of anxiety and confusion
Rolling down a hill
And picking up whatever just happened to be lying there
Just waiting to infiltrate our minds.
Our minds that are now not minds.
Minds that are just dark matter consisting of pandemonium
And the perpetual conflict between the desire to stand out
And the need to blend in.