No choice in the matter

Pigeons take their place, perched on your shoulders Exposed to every passer-by, no need to take cover Chiseled and ripped, albeit a splendid blunder A hammer is required to tear asunder The plaster shell leaves an indelible imprint To keep you in the dark against your better judgment A tiny crack feeds air to your brain No sunshine penetrates, yet no shame Stiff and arthritic, you haven't shifted in years Your life is no longer your own to steer People decorate you on Christmas Eve Play dress-up with you on Halloween No choice in the matter, no voice of variety Staid and conformist, a product of society