I am who I am and that will never change.
Labels were created to make us all look strange.
If we weren’t judged by our visage, but judged by our soul,
we could live life to the fullest
-and that is my goal.
I don't like labels.
Labels mean restrictions.
Oh, you want to do that?
No no, you can't!
Labels mean expectations and
Expectations means disappointment.
Labels mean something has to be
Ought to be
& not like that.
We'd constantly be thinking if what we were doing
Was what we should be doing.
I like labels.
Labels mean structure,
And structure means order.
If everything was in its place-
Exactly as it ought to be-
We'd be okay.
We wouldn't have to worry about crossing over the lines
That the world has drawn up against us.
We'd know what to expect
And what to feel.
Your were right.
I act so pitiful.
You were right.
I am negative.
You were right.
I'm a think in absolutes.
You were right.
I'm like a Sith.
But what do labels really change?
Do they warm you at night?
Even though it is,
you'd never admit my statement is right.
I am an introvert.
Or so they say.
But I don’t know why they say half the things they do anyway…
What is an introvert?
Someone who enjoys the quiet
Page turns of a good book?
Someone who enjoys the
Euphoria of sipping tea?
Someone who prefers yoga
Basked in the candle-light glow
Over a mind full of mary jane?
Why yes, then,
I am an introvert…
…drowning in my own solitude
We're not exactly close friends
At least, not in my terms.
Yet you insist that we are so much alike.
You scream to the world
Not of any passionate emotion
Just of how much better you are because you're wierd.
Honey, you just made yourself normal, for one.
You are not better or worse
Just because you call yourself wierd.
And you're kind of a hypocrite.
As the true 'freak' would not give a single damn
About what it is that people think
And I see that you care a lot.
One must to want to hide behind a label.
'Ooh, look at me, I'm [insert here]'
Labels, labels, labels.
Shut up about them for one damned second,
And realize that that won't take you anywhere.
You claim we are both like my favorite character.
I can say that I am,
I've read it three times and hold it close to my heart.
You take its misgivings about society and laugh.
That is not what it's fucking about!
It's about an introvert finding his way!
You are no introvert.
I'll let you have that label.
As for the rest,
I'll punch it out of your mouth someday.
Or maybe it is.
I've never given a fuck anyhow.
It is not visionary.
Illusion's melody rings crystal bells in my drums.
So out of time,
My tongue with my mind.
Somewhere in the process between the conception of a thought to the articulation of that idea,
Ripe fruits rot and fresh seeds are censored, over analyzed and watered until they drown.
Enthusiastic wonderings chase the boat of a moving tongue,
But a distorted image I project unto myself,
And to you.
Tongue is held...
A label I staple to these
Trapped steam won't cease to rattle this kettle.
Under confident musings will wilt,
But they will forever be buried in the soil of my blood,
So if someone is to find me and has the time to spare,
Let them take a spade,
Do not label me.
I will not fold to fit in to your
I will remain unchained,
unchanged by your desire for conformity.
All that I ever was, all that I may ever be
doesn't rest upon your opinion of my being.
Do not label me......someday I might surprise you
sometimes it's tiring
to sit and listen
to our friends
who talk about labels
labels of clothing
labels of people
labels and labels
silly names for what
they want to be known for
but what do these labels serve?
the greed for attention?
our eyes drawn to
their facebook pages
their hair and their
but do we really see them?
we're blind to the souls
and overlook the spirits
of our peers
with selective sights
we look on the surface
and judge what we see
to be what they are
Insert (four letter word) here
As a joke,
After a smoke,
I don’t have a tag
I don’t fit the mold
I don’t give a (four letter word)
About what you were told
A hundred years after
My soulless corpse slumbers
Six feet under
I’m (four letter word)
Death is the only true label