I'm still here full of hate
But a young lady can't be in that kind of state
And I'm ready to call 'check mate'
Because these feelings have got me cornered and I'm about to break

It's not proper to fill your lungs with any type of smoke
I thought
As the clouds stung
And I began to choke

But being proper is a mainstream way of thought
If my personality was fake and could be bought
I would be nothing but an assembly lines product

You cannot define who I am
With a dollar bill
Or your tainted Uncle Sam
Who has grown so ill

I hear that they've made Bluetooth light bulbs
It's funny, like an idea in your head can connect to your phone

But, I am of one mind
And it is my own
I will not be dependent on this iPhone

My fun will not end when the battery runs out
Or have a limit on my volume for how loud,
My thoughts may scream,
Individuality

This is who 'I' am
Who God has created me to be