Love it or loath it,
Like it or not,
I need permission
For everything I do,
That dreadful word
Pervades my life,
That fearful word I hate:

Every moment, every day
I turn to my fellow man to say
“Is this the right bus?
Am I in the right place?
Should I follow the map
Or the nose on my face?”

But if I detract
And become “free” of my fellows
I am lost to my mind,
That most singular muse,
Who directs and rejects
On the basis of passion,
A dubious friend
Blown by the winds
Of fashion.


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