Many of the most profound pieces of poetry
May not have been dreamed and transferred
In particular manners professional,
And many of the most practiced writers
May not have been as noble nor indicative
As their readers would imagine and preach.
This concern thus produces a humorous conclusion
That through probability, possibility, and realism,
Many of the greatest and most inspiring words
Passed down to our misguided generation,
May have been conceived, scribbled, and explored
From the humble origins of atop a toilet.

who are you to say that I can't be this way?
And why should I be classified as unidentified because I don't " fit in " in society's definition.

Sexuality wasn't a choice I made I didn't suddenly wake up and decide to make up my mind on loving both genders, but now I try my best not to surrender, on your idea of how love should be painted
   However I may come across as strong, but your words still burn like the razors that once lapped against my frigid skin, and sweetheart I still sin.

For I am in a body that controls my whole life and it's not okay to pull me aside and tell me what you think is wrong and what's right.

You don't get to judge me for if the watchful eye of the moon still shines for my damaged soul each night, then why should I let go of this fight, for acceptance.

Life is so funny, like a book, where you've read the last page, first. We all truly know the ending to our stories, as the only surety, death.