Hi, I am looking for honest feedback for this please.

You play the game,

you sing the song.

Saying that you don't belong,

that life is not easy.

You wear the right clothes,

hang out with the "in" people,

the loaded gun.

You think, "kuching,"

play by the rules that are for fools,

but life does not really.

Self-righteous in the extreme,

living out someone else's dream.

You say the right things,

make me appear remote and cruel,

yet it's passion and caring that rule.

I'm strong on honesty, but staying quiet is your policy.

Never stand up for what's right, just what makes you look good.

You're playing the game.

The loaded gun,

no longer fun.

I'm bored, too old for this,

shallow displays of self-confidence.

If this poem appears bigoted,

then at least I'm no hypocrite.

The loaded gun's not for me anymore.

I have a husband and son.

I'm not about to pull the trigger, yet...

When you help build foundations from dust,

and others simply take from you, steal your crust,

then you will know what it is like to be me.

The loaded gun, all pre-set,

strategically placed, in front, behind and centre.

I pull the trigger, I hear no sound

but the ghastly stares of the crowd affronted.

I haven't jumpd yet or fled the boat,

this loaded gun's just about kept me afloat.

Yes, I am pressing buttons, I hold you down,

though the dream I'll die for is still around.

Unity is bliss, divided rule amiss.

Living in ivory towers should not give others the power to judge.

The loaded gun I put away, life is more important than performance.