Diversity

From "This Sober Life"

I find myself with tattooed skin,
Irish temper and a past of sin.
Hands full of scars, a face wanted by men
in this counterfeit world I appear to fit in.
Was once a drunk
without a thought of the next day,
looked up to by rebels and truly thought
that was why I was made.
Yet, age seemed to come up and take me over,
I now cry at night and count days sober.
I write poetry full of feelings and fall in love.
Is my soul sitting in an unfitting glove?
In this world where everyone tries to categorize
I find parts of me fitting into too many ways of life
but I’d be a hypocrite to sit and criticize,
here I am questioning which definition is mine.
I can’t be the only one who’s confused by society,
the only one noticing even in this 21st century
that America though still called the melting pot
is afraid and surprised by its own inevitable products.
I leave others confused with the arts I admire
some that celebrate darkness and some that of light.
Who says I can't read Whitman and relate with Bukowski?
Who say’s it’s either Morrison or the great Bob Marley?
No one ever questions,
"Why the sunrise?"
Yet, isn’t it true,
day ends with midnight?
Well, America if you want to be filled with diversity
you must first stop making classification necessity.

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