"defiantly" poems
I do not identify myself as a black american
I do not identify myself as an activist
I do not identify myself
As anything other than what I am
Do not arbitrate my existence
It will only magnify your bigotry
Do not lecture me
It will not ratify your ministry
Do not objectify my identity
Do not marginalize my sincerity
I know your criticism
It will not dwindle me
I am defiantly deaf to it
It will not compute
Trust me
It will only intensify
What I occupy
Do not subject me to anomaly
Do not try and direct me
I will not comply
Do not concern yourself
with my essentiality
I am not lost
Do not concern yourself
With what defines me
Just ask
If I am willing and able.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:03 PM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
I
Through vines indeterminate
Red cherry eyes peeped,
And spied two forms,
Fleshy pink and brown
Trees, tangled at the roots,
kissing in the canopy.
II
The garden was our
Discotheque, the sullen
Moonlight reflected
On the Black Beauties,
Twisted black mirrors,
in the garden of joy.
III
O, to again be mov'd
By your heirloom lips,
I'd give it all, the earth,
the sun, and the water.
A sacrifice: my Homesteads,
for a home.
IV
Soil runs dry.
The sun scorches.
Plagues run rampant.
We burn, we are sacked
and pillaged, and destroyed.
Roma, Roma, Roma.
V.
Maybe the rain,
Or sweet shade,
Or gentle sun,
Or simply the need
To be so defiantly
alive, will bring us again,
And I will drink you up again,
Brandywine.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
I know, dear. There is low oxygen in a hamster ball, but you're told: "keep running! Keep running!" and you're like, "What the hell, Defender of Whatever, don't you know I need a break? It's getting really hot, but my heart is cold; I'm sleepless, but restless; my thoughts are stale, and my everything is irrelevant!" and the Defender of Whatever is all: "Mercy is for cowards! And, you, you're no coward, you're an American!" and then you respond, ever defiantly: "Where I exist has nothing do to with why I exist." The Defender of Whatever explodes…
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:15 AM UTC
He was an interesting man to say the least.
Thank god he is now deceased.
He killed lots of people, mainly the jews.
He didn't even provide them with shoes.
On the bright side, he was an artist.
But defiantly not the smartest.
He was a short little man.
Shorter than my uncle Dan.
He was famous for his ****** hair.
It was just a tiny square.
Goodbye ******
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 2:40 AM UTC
That unforgiving metal.
Within that unforgiving metal lies all the things you cannot forgive about yourself.
Those freckles on your chin that you wish would expand into a constellation so that you may give them names and so that you may give them meaning,
within that unforgiving metal.
The Greeks threw their hands towards the heavens
and deemed cosmic accidents worthy of the names of gods,
although within them lie no gifts.
Like a bedazzled and jaded Tiresias impostor one stumbles upon
on their way home,
who sees nothing but the tangible
and tells all but the truth.
Still, he is clad in diamonds and gold
and thus has value in trade.
Beauty triumphs over mendacity
and mendacity over reality.
But the freckles that mar your skin,
that you cannot transfigure into the most meaningless of stars or the crudest of answers,
sit there defiantly,
waiting to be acknowledged and waiting to be named.
You lean your forehead forward to rest against the cool smoothness of its idle twin.
You could swear you saw her sneer at you.
The freckles do not budge—they will consume you whole.
Aug 20, 2021
Aug 20, 2021 at 6:41 PM UTC
This is for the father that does not consider to be a whole in his creations life.
This is for the mother who chooses to 'opt out' of being a giver of love to the fruit of her womb.
This is for the one who has chosen to be an absent parent..
This is for you...
WAKE. the. **** UP!!
What are you doing?
What is wrong with you?
It seems to me you may not fully understand the ramifications that your chosen absence will play in the life of your child.
So I will spell it out it for you..
Your child, your gift, your delight, the one who was created from your very own dna, the one that you willingly gave life to and brought into this world...
will remember everything you have not done.
And they will carry this as a load upon their back for quite possibly most of their life.
Each will carry it differently, but carry the load they will. Some will carry it with forgiveness, some will carry with resolve, some will carry with the added weight of a heavy heart. Some will carry defiantly and will never truly forgive.
And no matter how they position the weight you give, by choosing to be absent, they will still carry that load...
because of you.
And you will continue to add weight to that load every day you choose to be absent from their life.
Each missed opportunity will be a pound of disappointment that your child will carry... for you.
Each broken promise will be a pebble.
Each late appointment will be a handful of sand.
Each missed birthday will be a tablespoon of gravel
to fill their pockets.
And every achievement they experience, that you have missed, will weigh upon their mind and their heart.
And because of this, throughout their life,
they will continually try to win your love.
You hear that...??
They will try. and. win. your. love...
Because... it is not given freely...
so they will try to win it.!!!
because, bottom line...
let's face it...
you're a selfish ****
And because of your self centered behaviour, everything that they need, want and have to experience without you will be tainted with your chosen absence.
Every tear and heart break, every grazed knee, bad dream, smile, whisper, secret, colouring on the fridge door, every clay model, every needed word of advice, comfort, support and encouragement, every exam result, every moment of despair, loss, grief and first love...
each and every lost opportunity to say 'i miss you'
each and every unuttered 'i love you'
will be carefully, silently and invisibly weighed,
measured
and carried.
And i promise you this..
the weight you have placed upon them will be keenly felt
when it is their time to fly.
This is not to say they will not fly, because they will,
and beautifully so..
And with wings that you did not help to fashion.
And, because of your chosen absence, your creation, your child, your very own delight will always carry the weight that you have placed upon them.
And the weight of your absence is so much heavier than you could possibly imagine.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
**Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.**
I am,
like my species,
young.
Naive in mind,
Reckless in heart.
Wild in thought.
Spontaneous in action.
Good and evil are not born from sunlight.
They did not emerge from the soil.
Whether through confusion or fear,
we created it.
**Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.**
We build and oppress ourselves.
Constantly raging violent wars.
Closing and opening wonderful doors.
Heaven and hell
exist
inside of us.
It's our choice which one
spills
into the universe.
Though our history seems so vast
so countless,
we are still
young.
**Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.**
Singing and screaming into a sky full of stars,
hoping that someone will take pity on us,
will understand us.
will guide us.
So far no one has.
So we build our own towers.
Fabricate our own explanations.
Dig our feet in the dirt and defiantly say,
"We know the truth!"
*Forgive us.
We are young.
We know nothing but think we know it all.
I think I know it all, but I know nothing.
I am young.
Forgive me.*
**Have patience with us.
Have patience with me.**
In the quiet vastness,
our planet was born.
We crawled from the sea.
Filled our lungs with oxygen.
Molded our bodies to the craft.
Forged our minds to the art.
Millenias of trial and error,
leading us to this moment.
Never forget.
We are young.
Though cruelty persists,
virtue exists.
Always remember.
We will survive.
We will overcome.
We still have a hopeful spark
in our dying world.
A species of dreamers
whispering into the unknown,
**"Have patience with us.
Have patience me."**
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
He was only three foot tall, but
He wanted to be like his
Famous daddy
"The pirate" long bob
Plated
Silver
Toe
A renowned pirate or so
He told me.
So he looked around the house
to what he could find,
A hook was out of reach
As it was dangerous you know,
it could take an eye out
or if trod on cut your toes,
He would have defiantly have shed a
Tear
Or
Three,
So he found a spoon, not
Gold
or
Silver
Not plated precious,
It was copper it would have to do.
So he put his hand up his sleeve,
Holding the spoon quite
Menacingly,
I'll scoop your ice cream
From right under your nose,
One scoop,
Two scoop,
Three,
"Ill bounce the bowl upon your head"
"Then run so you never knows it was me"
"Who had eaten your desert from"
"Right under your nose you see"
He giggled and smiled a child's grin,
What next does a pirate need to be
"King of the sea"
A hat he thought,
As he looked around his fathers hats
Covered his head,
He walked in to
Table
&
Chair,
For it was to big over his eyes,
He was unable to see.
He bounced Off the door, the bed, the
Window sill too, with holes cut he still
Was unable to see properly,
So he got a sock with a patch on the heal
Putting it on his little head
looked in the mirror amused
By what could be seen.
I need one more thing
To be like me pa..
A ship to sail the high sea,
But he was only tiny 3 foot tall was he,
So he looked around
Finding a table in the yard,
Discarded but could be used by he.
"A sail was needed"
A table cloth tied to the back legs
To catch the gusts of wind yar see,
A crew was needed??
But there was only room for
Him
And his parrot
Reginald,
*******
*******
He would squawk at me,
A I dry one given and a pat on the
Head from me.
I was known as a captain on
My
Green
Sea,
Plundering the apple tree
The raspberry bush
All the berries were now mine
That I could see,
I wanted to be like my father when I grew up
But lets be realistic I'm three foot
"I'm four and three months"
Who would be scared of little spoon pirate me.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
Click. Click. Click.
Up down, up down, up down.
On, off. On, off. On, off.
Florescent flicker. Light to dark.
Do I really want to see that face in the mirror?
Not tonight.
Click. Down. Off.
Black.
Slumped down on the floor.
There's an icy breeze through the window.
But my face is hot. Burning.
The hair on my arms is up. Attentive.
Seems they're the only ones.
Keep a hushed voice.
It feels like a whisper could wake the world.
It's shaken mine before. A second time wouldn't be surprising.
Black ink on my face. Track marks, so to speak.
Every breath is a catalyst for the next wave.
If I breathe to calm myself, it acts defiantly, and I cry harder.
There's an earthquake in my body. Shaking, trembling.
It rattles my heart.
If it's quiet, it's like it never happened.
Pull the blanket over me. A towel, actually, but it'll do.
It's like I've taken ten years away, stepped back into size four shoes.
I'm hiding under my covers.
In the black.
In the silence.
One, two, three...
Watch out for Mr. Boogeyman.
See, how it works is, if I can't see him, he can't see me.
If you never see me cry, I'm never sad.
If you never see me hurt, I'm never in pain.
Click. Up. On.
Light.
Open your eyes and look in the mirror.
Hello
Mr. Boogeyman.
Click.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
1
**My dad suddenly walks in,
as if nothing has happened,
and he hasn't gone anywhere, leaving
six of us behind, notwithstanding-
all these years of absence and
pain unimaginable that changed us all
to see life in a new light that gets dim
without the lamp he held in front of us.
A shadow transparent gets in to the room,
he stands near mom sitting inside her cocoon,
lost in an ancient evening, pensive, forlorn
as if she feels an absence, tangible right there.
Dad's absence stands silent, perhaps
curiously looking at her with loving eyes
that's how he was, after a period of absence.
The pantomime, tears my sense of reality
in to shreds, I sit upright,
with my hands pressed against my palpitating heart.
Do I see it really or hallucinate him looking,
wistfully at the coconut groves dancing
beyond the extending rice paddy billowing,
in front of our farm yard, sleepy these days,
for a moment I think time has
taken liberty to flow back
and everything is right there
where we'd love it to be.
2
The absence was a hollow,
in the middle of everything,
breaking the mirror of reality
in to smithereens, the dark space,
in between sprang-
opening its mouth to swallow,
wherever one turned,
it stood in front defiantly,
posing a challenge at times,
it came behind hollering noiselessly,
bringing unbearable memories,
from moments hard to forget
spent in his company,
in my palmy days of yore.
3
Absence was fire within,
that needs no fuel to burn,
flood waters without a source,
that can wash away,
till one becomes nothing;
then little by little,
one comes in to terms with the absence
and at last it too is laid to rest,
and that eats a part of the soul,
causing bleeding in slushy green,
transparent white and blobs of sad black.**
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
the excellence is evident in the credulous eminence
blessedness in the discipline of relevant emphasis
intelligence, if directionless, can lead to arrogance
purposeless over-confidence of pendulous relevance
defiantly, yet reliably, calliope waiting quietly
a variety of society that finds height in irony
i solemnly and politely will happily sit silently
finally facing the gravity patiently and privately
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
Mean... I hear this term a lot and I must say I'm getting pretty sick and tired of being told I'm mean.
So what if I'm sarcastic its a joke its never malicious
Yes I pull your leg sometimes but do you realize you do the same to me
What about the time I listened to you and your problems. Without mentioning anything about myself for hours
What about the time I dropped everything to help you. I didn't care about me or my plans you needed me and I was there.
But you have conveniently forgotten all of that.
Must be nice to have such a selective memory, I would love to have one but sadly I remember everything
I remember the time you were to busy to help me.
I remember how your problems are always greater than mine and that you can't listen to me for more than five minutes
Or the time you called me mean...
But its fine I don't mind being the bad guy because I know who I am and I won't change for anything
Because honestly dear your opinion is worthless to me now
And now you have full permission to call me mean
Because I'm defiantly not going to waist my time being nice to you ever again.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
I'm disgusted with the skeleton that shows through my skin,
and my heart palpitates to a beat that I cannot trace,
I feel so weak and you stand so tall,
and I wonder if the roles were reversed,
if I could stand up as straight as you,
and if you would be able to keep yourself stitched together,
because I am always trapped in a state of frigid failure and I think
that I might be falling apart on the inside and out but
yet I never change and nothing ever happens
to make anyone notice tha-
I wonder if I will ever be whole because some days I cannot
even decide what to wear in the morning and I always,
always think about perception and things like that,
for example I accidentally dropped my earring down the sink
yesterday and I just started sobbing into the mirror and I wonder
what people thought about me,
like maybe I was having a mental
breakdown but then again,
perhaps that earring was a family heirloom that was worth
more money than a lawyer would ever make,
yet seeing yourself from the outside is different
than seeing your own reflection,
Jesus I never wanted to admit this but I think that I am dying
but I cannot stop myself from keeping the same habits and patterns
and the feeling never leaves anyway
and I always wondered how people had the time
to pray to a higher power
because I could never even wake up in
the morning without four alarms set just in case,
if Jesus decides to come down from chilling up on a cloud and talk
to a little person such as me,
I wonder if he would be able to see all the emotions
that I carry or if he would try to convert me to Christianity,
even though I was raised that way I always just felt lost
and I just could not wrap my head around self-sacrifice like that
until I met you and I realized that your life was most defiantly
worth at least ten of mine,
I'm frightened to think that one day I could end up all alone,
even though I'm pretty sure that I already am because
I push everyone away that does not understand the way that I feel.
My hands shake and tremble even when I am holding yours
and I'm sorry that you are trapped by someone like me.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
The inlets
Wrap around the water
Writhing in the fury of the ocean’s waves,
Obscuring the distance they reveal
To the eyes that gaze absent mindedly
Down their beaches and their cliffs.
Indifferent to the conflict below,
The sun blazes down
But the winds cleanse the skin of its heat
As they are driven from the sea.
The sea that breaks the stoic rocks
And casts the sand’s lonely grains
-Along with the many homeless winds-
Across the beaches which slope
At the feet of their stony bluffs.
But the cliffs stand in austere grandeur
Defiantly surveying the endless waters
Whose numerous, ceaseless, enduring waves
Are kept at bay by the towering unity.
I am of the wind that has no home
In the conflict of sea and land
I am the sun that lights this vision:
Firmament of hills, sea and sand.
Tides come and go but never leave me
Sands shift in time but never deceive me
As sun I shine light on all at hand:
This ceaseless meeting of sea and land.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Each day is drowned in frigid waters.
Never able to dock against real land.
Little bubbles ripple to the surface of the ill-fated.
Riptides of hate and disgust slam the high towers of this mighty hull.
The icy cluster plunges into the depth of our core.
Defiantly this mighty bow of ours shrieks from its deathly hollows.
As if some ghostly being is wailing it's final departure to the sea.
Monotonous overtones creak inside this inlet;
as life and death flood to it's harmony.
Brimming with animosity and subjugation.
The majestic's heart yearns for land one last time.
Our innards displayed,
as our two halves fatally sink to their final depths.
Never reaching our idol port.
Never finding what was Solely ours to find.
A sinking Ship.
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 7:04 AM UTC
The morning came slowly on that third day
The sun wondered how it might be able to shine through such darkness
The tears of the earth came early in the dew that morning
The flowers began to bloom in an open defiance to the earth
Perhaps the decaying body of the Lord gave them new life
The birds sang songs of jubilee that morning, as if there were reason for joy
Did they not know that the Light of the World had been snuffed out?
Did they not know that the one who fed them had gone away?
Did they not know that their creator lay below them dead in the ground?
Or did they sing defiantly knowing what we yet did not know?
Much like it had been in Bethlehem decades before, the world was silent
Breaking the silence like the Divine Child’s cries, somewhere a child cried
As if this child knew that his Lord lay dead below the earth
As if he could feel the thick darkness that surrounded him
But then, in defiance like only a child could bring, the first laughter in days
The new world was cold, dark, and bitter, and a child dared to laugh
While the rest of the world cried and mourned the death of their only hope
This child laughed while the birds sang and the flowers bloomed
It was as if they did not know that the Life of the World was still dead
Rather, though, it was as if they had read the prophets of old, and believed
When the sun finally rose, it could not shine through the thick darkness
We lived in a dark purgatorial world where we awaited the judgement
What a terrible judgement that must be coming toward us
We, who drove the nails into His hands, and gave Him over to death
But then, a glimmer of light comes upon the horizon
The light was not the rising of the sun, but some holy other
Those disciples who had run away while He hung on the cross ran again
This time not away from their Savior, but toward that otherworldly light
When they came to where He has been buried, they fell upon their faces
The brightest light to ever grace this old world poured out of the tomb
Then they heard a voice, the voice of the Risen Lord
‘Rise up you men of earth’ He said to the men lying facedown
‘Rise up oh you sleepers!’
‘Behold the Light of the World is upon you’
It was then that the world began its slow change
The cosmos, which had fractured so long ago in Eden, began to mend
Dead men rose to new life
Dark places were then filled with life
The world became a new place where the old had passed away
Every crack and crevice filled with an uncreated light never before seen
For the Lord has risen from the dead!
Indeed He has defeated death!
And forever, we shall keep the feast !
Alleluia!
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
We are completely and utterly ****** up.
Daddy stomps his feet around;
rawr, rawr, rawr
Little brother stands defiantly;
screaming, "I hate you; I will **** you all!"
tears streaming down his face;
once innocent but now always covered
in anger, in insecurities, in uncertainty.
And mama is in the recliner;
slurring sarcastic comments.
A glass of wine for each hour of the day.
Where's sister you ask?
Well she's probably not here; trying to escape.
Filled with such an anger, such a stubbornness.
Or maybe she's in her room dancing;
not very good at it, but an outlet none the less.
As all of this psychotic behavior is enveloping
the lives of these people, I sit on the couch
an just watch it all.
Shut off to the world, I sit.
And I laugh and laugh at the fact,
that we are completely and utterly ****** up.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
A tall, proud
sunflower
reigns as an empress
over
a trickle of a
river
She stands, thirsty
daring
to live in
barrenness
She is not
proud
because she is
exceptional
She is proud
because
she was determined,
audacious
She overcame concrete,
thirst
relying on sunlit
days
She overcame man's
concrete
rules for her
blooming
She is blooming
defiantly
regally, in season
She is a
tall
proud sunflower
Oct 25, 2020
Oct 25, 2020 at 4:21 PM UTC
I reject God as he dances around
In his heavens in his expansive freedom
While the neglected human spirit
Remain chained to the confines
Of this world
While he sits back
Overlooks
With a neglectful apathy
All Gods drop away in my mind
As I turn my back on the Lord
I bow to the power of human spirit
Engulfed and surrounded
By the darkness of their mortality
I still see the defiance in their stair
Engulfed by a face of fear
Eyes shine bright like two
Sparkling stars in the dead of night
Saying NO NO NO
To the darkness
TRAPPED TRAPPED TRAPPED
Deep down in their darkness
Buried under under under
FAR FAR FAR
From any heaven above
As they feel no God down here
BLACK BLACK BLACK
Pitch blackness , Coal
Crushes with an engulfing fear
From every side
Birth presses from below
And death presses from above
Compressed into an inescapable
DARKNESS!!!
But the human spirit
Relentlessly fights back
Abandoned by God
It defiantly pushes back
At the darkness deemed to
Destroy it
Atoms of the soul
Unify themselves into
Perfect alignment
As they become an
Impenetrable army
That stands firm and says
No to the darkness
YOU SHALL NOT PASS
Crystallized under great
Pressure the soul
Becomes the perfect diamond
As nothing is stronger , harder
Greater than the human spirit
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:21 PM UTC
A LATE 1962-ISH PUDDLE
It was a late 1962-ish
puddle.
A Curragh puddle
to be exact
but you
...wouldn't know that.
A moon had fallen
asleep in it
with scattered silver stars
nailing it to the ground.
I was 6-ish
by then &
had encountered more
puddles than you
could ever splash
about in.
But, this was
the first puddle
I ever
remember.
An Ur-puddle.
To the rest of the world
it was as if
it had never been &
existed only for me.
A robin stood
at my side.
Us both...staring at the puddle.
Suddenly the robin
made up its mind &
stepped defiantly
into this miniature ocean.
The robin stood on the moon
which shattered &
reformed itself about
its tiny feet.
It was the first robin
I'd seen
walking on the moon.
The puddle lived
inside my head
for many many
years until
these words came along
and took it away.
It was like the hand
of a man
long long before
history was invented
pressed against
the flickering cave wall
leaving a sooty hand print
in celebration of himself.
"This mark means
me!"
My late 1962-ish
Curragh puddle
and that robin walking
on a watery moon
is my handprint
on the cave wall
of my mind
in the long long ago.
I laugh at
the me-ness of me!
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
**** you society
For making people believe
That there is a certain way to live and breath
Everyone is the same, there is no variety
You outcast those for rioting
And living their life defiantly
What gives you the right to judge me
You are not god almighty
You are the reason for my anxiety
And loss of sobriety
And visits to the psychiatry
But I stand in protest finally
I will no longer sit quietly
And let you decide unjustifiably
What I should be
Your judgment makes people feel insecure
Why do you believe that everyone has to be similar
Why don't you understand that no one is perfect
Why do I have to conform to your culture to earn respect
Why is money the only way to achieve success
Every person lives just like the next
This makes me feel so depressed
**** you, I chose to be unique
I refuse to live a life that's boring and bleak
My life does not need to be critiqued
Your approval will not bring relief
Happiness is key
I will live happy and free
Aug 3, 2014
Aug 3, 2014 at 12:27 AM UTC