Death of a non-conformist (ii)

I don’t need you to tell me who I am.

I know it sounds clichéd but I think you don’t completely understand
I don’t need you to tell me who I am.

I don’t need you to sell me these things that will make me
better, faster, stronger.

I don’t need you to ask me to be more beautiful, desired.

I don’t need you to explain to me what I feel.

I don’t need you to tell me how I behave.

I don’t need you to tell me I am dying
that life is short and youth is fleeting.

I don’t need you to see a mirror.

I don’t need to have a happy face.

I don’t need to treat my body like a temple
I don’t agree my mind is a toxic waste.

I don’t need your rejection or your faith.

I don’t need company
I don’t need a lonely day.

I don’t need a party, I surely don’t need a parade
I don’t need destruction, I don’t need a damn crusade.

I don’t need you to tell me who I am.

I don’t need your cultured taste.

 

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