Who ever said I could not write happy poems while my blood dripped all over these pages

Who ever said I could not smile so much that it hurts in the morning, only to cry myself to liberation at night?
Who ever said I could not bring a party to life, just because my insides feel dead?
Who ever said I could not preach self love while loathing myself?

Who ever said I could not care for humanity, even if I don't really love humans all that much individually?
Who ever said I'd shy away from an argument, just because I advocate peace?
Who ever said I can't be complex in my thoughts, while being so simple in my art?
Who ever said I could not be an insomniac, even if I can sleep all day long just fine?

Who ever said I could not be terribly sad while laughing myself to a fit?
Who ever said I could not wear a seat belt just because some nights my thoughts strayed to suicide?
Who ever said I wanted to die just because I could not expect to live?

Who ever said who you're should be neatly labelled into categories others decide?