Author Information
Identity
I need my identity
Like colored Englishmen.
I need the kind of love,
That doesn’t require condoms,
And conceives nothing.
I’ve had enough with softhearted girls,
I want someone who isn’t a bitch;
I don’t care if they have a dick or not.
I’m tired of setting boundaries,
So that relationships can move forward,
It is time for past tense.
I am tired of fighting wars,
And being called diplomatic.
I am tired of people seeing the diplomacy
As lack of sophistication.
Like the unsophisticated fucks,
Who see my failures
And say it could only be Failure.
A happy kid,
Who was sad to those,
Who didn’t have a vested interested,
In a happy kid.
Like grown girls,
Who talk of tolerance
And say we have an equal shot,
Who say this is who they really are,
And wear shorts under their dresses.
In my room alone,
Getting high on everything,
But drugs,
Because I made a promise to myself.
Glaucon,
I will live a principled life,
I will die with them mourning ignorance,
And say nothing,
That is finality.
Until then I’ll keep upholding beaners,
Even the ethnic ones, I’ll keep using chained words,
Who are chained by people,
In the hope of freeing their prisoners,
Without opening the cell doors,
Which means survival,
In their freedom.
