Who am I? Who am I?
It's something I can ask myself all day I fit into so many contradicting categories Because I cannot just choose one way That would be silly, I'm constantly changing! In life, we are expected to make choices- Good and bad, black and white Which side are you on, what are your preferences There is no shade of grey, no purgatory between heaven and hell on Earth. I suppose I can't wear black and appreciate flowers, Because I don't dress the part I look harsh; therefore I am taken as harsh I cannot appreciate simple things. Fighting is not looked upon as an art. But on the other hand~ I can't dress in flowing dresses, and be able to defend myself I cannot get a tattoo and dress classy at the same time For they are two separate categories And I am expected to choose I am 14, and of course all these decisions likely seem silly Unimportant, because I am so young But even this young, in today's society I am expected to choose a category A category that has been branded by my own generation Am I a hipster, a hippy, an emo, a goth, a punk, a nerd Where do I fit? Do I like heavy metal or techno, or maybe rap, or pop, or classical? Do I prefer leather to lace, or do I like soft cotton? Stilettos, combat boots, sandals or sneakers Jeans or skirts Dresses or band tees In today's world, no trends can coincide You choose your style, and your preferences are supposed to fall into line Because no one expects someone with neon hair and a lip ring to sit in a music hall listening to symphonies Or you choose your preferences, and your style is assigned... because what metalhead would wear conservative and prude clothing Society has set expectations for preference and it bothers me Because now I'm confused I like so many things that seem to contradict the presets of society And I don't know where I belong So I drift where my personality takes me It just makes me feel odd Knowing that some will look at the length of my eyeliner And place me into one category Whereas others may see my tee-shirts and place me in another When I belong to no true category And only those who take the time to speak to me And get past whatever appearance I happen to take on any given day Will know who I really am. I know this post was disjointed and weird... but this is just a collection of my thoughts structured in a different way. It's late and I'm tired; and this is just what came out naturally. It's not really a poem; but not entirely a post either. You decide. Make what you will of it. My point is simple: appearance shouldn't define you and societies norms shouldn't shove you into preferences. Don't be mainstream. Think for yourself. Break the mold. -- Maddie
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