Bones

We all start out in life as a collection of bones

As we grow the number of bones gets smaller

We form into business men, doctors, mechanics

We put a wear and tear on our bones

The bones we made conform to societal standards so we'd hear "I'm proud"

But we all have the same bones

New or old

Bad or good

Never once do we do what we want for our bones

We never say we want to be an astronaut, ballerina, or musician

Because society tells our bones "stupid dreams"

Then we inch closer to the end of our lives

Gone

Our bones break down

And we end with the same large amount we started off with in life

Disintegrated