You think you’re slick,

invisible to I,

but I see right through your lies.

Simulacrum, automaton,

I know your name,

you surf the waves and do what others say.

When others are disgusted, you gawk with them,

despite your feelings on the matter,

you cheer through the confusion to maintain the facade.

People pleasers take the eraser on a pencil,

and rub at their skull, tracing new words, old ideas.

That is, until their companions mention

something new, something cool,

so they rub it out and try again.

Automatons hide in plain sight, but fear not,

for they have one fatal flaw.

When someone asks THEM what THEY should do,

their circuits fry, they haven’t a clue!

They gag and sputter, and gasp out a mutter,

“Oh, whatever you want, whatever you say!”

That, my friends, is the dead giveaway.