Assimilation

Did they ship you in from Thailand?

Perhaps aboard a cargo ship, stored and housed with a million and one of you?

Did they teach you how to walk, talk, act, and do what others do,

without programming a mind for you?

Am I asking you too much now?

Could it be that you’re intimidated by my differences,

or the complex mind that I won’t allow you to invade?

Will you try to change me like you’ve changed the world?

Will you try to break me as you’ve done to many cultures?

Did you fly in on a cubic spaceship with your brothers of cyborgs,

abducting and destroying everything in your way?

Should I abandon my style and join yours,

full of Louis Vuittons, Coaches, and other things of uselessness?

Should I try to be popular,

so that everyone can l-o-v-e me?

Should I be more agreeable and less difficult?

By this, you mean I should conform as you do.

So, I’ll leave you with your pompous stance and intolerable arrogance,

because I can’t comprehend your acts of assimilation.