What do I do?
What do I be?
May it simply be,
That I’m just me?
Who do I be?
Who should I be?
Is it always a matter,
Of what I make me?
Why can’t I just be?
What can’t I just be me?
What does everything,
Rely on what to be?
I somehow seem unable,
To be any ounce of free,
With requirements to be,
Everything but me.
There’s a title and a category for everything.