These words rattle around in my head
Like a symphony of judgement
And the harmony is my identity.
It\'s the sentence for the crime
of wearing what I want
because it\'s out of character.
Does a flower loose its beauty when put on a corsage
and then a prom dress of a young girl?
Does the rainbow only have
seven colors when it\'s the sky that caused it?
My clothes and my style
are my choice. I like the clothes.
So why am I fake
or a poser for wearing them?
Why does a style belong to
a type of music?
Why does a type of music belong to
mental illnesses?
I tell them I just want to be seen,
They look away.
And I\'m alone.
A poser in a sea of truth.
I\'m fake.
Because of the road I choose.
But at least that choice is mine.
At least I\'m not mindless
doing what I\'ve been told isn\'t for me.
At least I know who I am
which I can\'t say for them.
I\'m not a poser,
I\'m the realest me there will ever be
and they can take
everything away from me
but that.
I
am
not
a
poser.