Oh what a fickle soul you are,
With your feeble thoughts and convoluted requests.
Your repetitive dialogue,
And its impeccable predictability.
You're nothing but a conformist reject,
Trying to ascertain their niche.
Following the social cues of your predecessors,
Deliriously believing that you can do better.
Skitter along quickly, little child,
Return to the over-ambitious hive of your brethren.
Where you wait with bated breath,
For your next, seemingly oblivious, victim to appear.