Chameleon

A season of change, conforming to those around.

Seeking clarity through reason, affixing to the ground.

Conjuring the illusive imitator, reflector of another’s disguise.

Building up their esteem piece by piece, repressing any lies.

Resting in thy assumptions, becoming stuck when disengaged.

Camouflaging any adverse feelings, finding contentment in being caged.

Traversing the terrain more familiar, choosing the passage predefined.

Only to discover the heights of apathy, and oppression of the mind.

Why do most of us need a conductor, a puppet master to pull our own strings?

Is it even possible to live without mirrors? Never knowing how to fly with our wings.

Finding inspiration from being our own sovereign, being emboldened from what lies within.

Intertwining with our heartfelt nature, collaborating together instead of competing for the win.

Is all of this just folly imagination, a distraction for the idealists who have been mistook?

Who are we beyond the chameleon? Why not gaze into our own reflection and have a proper look.