when asked who I am
I hesitate
for when I am not exactly as I should
all choose to see me as unhinged and nothing more
saying there must be something broken in me
because for me love is bleeding and hate is freeing
and I am so goddamn tired of being
told my ardor and my resentment are just psychological phases
everyone is waiting for me to grow out of my own existence
for every contradiction I propose is a hormonal game to them
and my melodrama couldn\'t possibly be a result of environment
no, it\'s my fault that I think black and white
that\'s why there\'s no sign of life in my eyes when snow falls
and why I am so vibrant that it suffocates them when the sun shines
and it makes them try and strap me down
teach me how the world works in their eyes
despite them turning into their own fears
they can\'t see that I\'m here to change or die
they beg, who am I?
i am someone whose right to feel can never be taken
but such an answer is not yet safe
so I smile and I nod and I answer
with only my name