Pent up

Penned, pent up, back behind the white picket fences of perfection.
Tell me: if not you who is supposed to unleash me?
To unchain me and release me from this mad hell,
where to be who I am is scorned on for the other more fanciful ideals.
Stop labelling those white picket fences,
stop making them look just when you want to tear them down as much as I do.
You should set yourself upon the world and live it to the fullest,
in more ways that one, in places you see fit.

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