The Philosophical Kid
The world was a strange place for a little kid,
He used to feel accountable for all that he did.
There was no evil in that world he knew,
Only good. In everyone. That was his view.
Yet, one thing about that child was really odd,
That clothing of all sorts, he'd label them as fraud.
It was a strange fact, very strange indeed,
But the little brain had an explanation for the deed.
For it would change the people he'd recognize,
Not people exactly, their personalities to be precise.
The way they'd walk, and how they'd behave,
It would all confuse the little child so naive.
From casuals to fancy suits and dresses,
Their behavioral changes met his guesses.
Expensive clothing had a serious effect,
The clothes themselves demanded respect!
The child went on and on with his imagination,
He concluded. It was all an act of domination.
With the clothes ironically, the masters,
And the people; slaves of their captors!
People could only behave, he admitted,
The way their fancy clothing permitted.
And obliterated was the idea of men born free,
Enslaved they were since their first clothing thought he.
And while fancy clothes stood by waiting to be adorned,
An innocent little kid, into a philosopher had transformed.
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